


Edge Of Morning

by SvenskaFishes



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Aftermath of Torture, Babybones, Evil W. D. Gaster, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Child Abuse, Unethical Experimentation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-07 23:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 31,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5475230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SvenskaFishes/pseuds/SvenskaFishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Escaping from Gaster's lab as a child, Sans takes Papyrus and runs to Snowdin and then beyond. There's light at the edge of the darkness now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, I'll be upfront about the content that could be iffy for some readers: past abuse/experimentation, some physical and some psychological. Not sure how in detail it'll be, so be careful. If I end up continuing the story, any sequels MAY have additional warnings you should check for.
> 
> Updates are going to be inconsistent, just as a heads up!

_A needle again, unbearable pain, screaming, the dark--_

    Sans muffled a groan as his pounding, frantic magic stammered him into wakefulness, chest heaving, small fingers scrabbling for purchase on the hard bench. Curled up at his side, the tiny skeleton baby began to wail at the disturbance. Sans winced.

    "Oh god, oh no, hey Paps, just, uh. Calm down, okay? We're okay. We're gonna be okay. Shhhh..." As he spoke, he wrapped his arms around his baby brother and warily watched for any signs of movement, anything that spoke of their cover being blown...

    Waterfall. They'd made it to Waterfall. It had been a rough journey, sneaking through the capital past all those monsters, and out into Hotland with all those vent puzzles just asking for Sans to fumble his grip on his baby brother - he knocked his forehead against Pap's, to reassure the both of them. They made it. They were out.

    They could still go farther. They _should_. They could never go far enough, to be honest.

    The lonely bench that Sans had picked for a temporary shelter had been hard, and it left him feeling sore all over. There was a fuzziness in his head from sleep that hadn't quite abated yet. Sans had been carrying Papyrus for several days nearly nonstop, so the leftover bleariness was probably to be expected. He stretched, joints clicking, and closed one eye to grin at Papyrus. "Ready for another day?"

    The baby babbled back. Sans' grin widened. Papyrus was a happy kid, and by now he was the only thing keeping Sans going. There had been a few points back there where he had nearly given in to the urge to curl up in a corner somewhere, go to sleep, and never wake up. Papyrus reminded him what he was doing it all for.

    "Okay," he breathed. He shrugged on the oversized jacket that he had taken from the Bad Place at the beginning of the journey, wrapped his arms around the bright red blanket that Papyrus had been bundled up in, and started walking westward again.

 

* * *

 

    Whenever he could, Sans nicked food. There were plenty of little shops in the capital, and he had stuffed his pockets full when no one was looking. It had been enough for the first day or so, but supplies were starting to run low. The only shopkeeper they passed in Waterfall was a sharp-looking turtle monster who stared at them as if he could see right through them - it made Sans hurry past, his magic pounding in his head with worry and fear. Papyrus was asleep again, thank god, otherwise he would have started fussing. The baby skeleton was so sensitive to Sans' moods, but they couldn't afford any extra attention to themselves. Not now. Maybe not ever.

    As the weather changed from a peaceful humid warmth into biting cold, Sans wrapped the red blanket tighter around Papyrus. They were skeletons, and they had no skin, but he was getting so hungry that the chill still seeped into his bones anyways. Legs shaking, he curled up behind a tree and set Papyrus down. The kid immediately rolled over, grinning, and started trying to crawl all over his big brother.

    Sans reached into his pocket and came up with a half-eaten bar of something soft and sweet, and some sort of small oblong fruit.

    "This is it, huh?" He whispered. Papyrus reached for the brightly colored wrapper, grinning, and Sans dutifully broke off pieces of the bar and slowly fed them to him. God, Sans would never get over how different the food was here, bright colors and strange tastes, nothing like the sludge from the Bad Place--

    "Nyeh!"

    He blinked. Papyrus was leaning as far over as his tiny baby body would let him, hand extended towards Sans', which had stopped in midair. "Whoops, sorry bro." Papyrus finished the last of the candy bar, then Sans took bites of the fruit. Whatever it was, it made a crunching noise when he tried it and tasted... sharp? There were new experiences all around, and he sometimes lacked the words.

    "Nyeh!" The baby said again, and Sans hefted him up so they were eye level.

    Paps drummed his hands on Sans' skull happily as Sans teased, "What was that? That's not a word, sillybones! Try something real, like Sans. Saaaaaaaaans," that got him two bony hands patting his eye sockets and an agreeable noise that sounded nothing like 'Sans'.

    "Close enough. You ready to go?" He plopped Paps down on his lap and wrapped his arms around him again. Papyrus wiggled, but Sans pulled himself to his feet on still-shaky legs and headed down the path, further and further away from the Capital and away from the things that, even now, were probably still chasing them. If Sans kept walking until his legs gave out completely, he would still not feel far enough away.

 

* * *

 

 

    It was getting colder as Sans and Papyrus drew close to the town. The nonexistent sky that provided very existent precipitation was growing darker and cloudier the longer Sans stared up at it. It made him nervous for reasons he couldn't quite explain.

    There was one building all lit up, though, that made him almost want to cry in relief. A food place! "We're going to eat, don't worry Paps," he whispered to the baby. At the beginning of their journey, Papyrus had been so energetic and wiggly that Sans had been at the end of his rope, but it had taken almost no time at all for Paps to settle down, and now he was sleeping a lot. Maybe the food wasn't good enough, Sans thought, or maybe Papyrus was finally able to relax now that they were away from the Bad Place? Whatever the reason, Papyrus was still smiling. Always.

    The food place was lit up from the inside and there were lots of monsters sitting at tables. It looked so warm and comfortable - the seats had cushions! - that Sans was tempted just to go in and fall asleep. Maybe someone nice would see them. Maybe they would wake Sans up and tell them it's okay, give them food and a blanket, take them in, keep them safe...

    His chest hurt. He wanted to cry. The cold air bit the inside of his skull as he breathed in sharply and sighed, trying to hold it back. Gotta be okay, gotta get Paps to safety, can't- yeah.

    In the alley behind the food place, the dumpster lid was heavy, and he had to put Papyrus down in the snow to hold it up and rummage around inside. It didn't take him long to find a sandwich... thing. Round, with something like meat in it. Half-eaten, yeah, but Sans had had worse. The Bad Place had worse.

    There were several more of the things, so Sans took them all and then grabbed Papyrus and got out of there. Past the little town was a forest where they could hide for a while, maybe even sleep without worrying about being found. He spent a good part of the evening trying to get Paps to eat. Yeah, the stuff was greasy, but it tasted pretty good. Papyrus very emphatically did not agree.

    "Nyeh!" The baby protested, slapping away Sans' hand each time the older skeleton offered him a piece. Sans sighed.

    "You gotta eat something, Paps, this is all I have. All we have."

    Pap turned around, put his back to Sans, and started wiggling deeper in the bright red folds of the blanket. Sans sighed again, nervousness warring with shame and exhaustion, and finally gave up. Papyrus tired himself out quickly with rolling around and snuggling in deeper, finally quieting. His head lolled back against Sans and the tree trunk and the last thing Sans heard from him were soft snores.

    Sans curled his knees up to his chin and looked at his hands. They were shaking. His chest hadn't stopped feeling tight. He was aching all over.

    The jacket was huge and baggy on him, so he unzipped it, pulled his knees back up, and zipped himself into a tiny ball inside. There he sat, awake, staring off into the distance and trying to figure out why his insides kept flopping around.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get worse before they get better.  
> *edited for better readability, hopefully?  
> (See the end chapter note for WARNING)

    It wasn't the light that counted for daylight in the Underground that woke Sans. It wasn't even Papyrus. It was a biting wind cutting straight through his jacket, blowing thick snowflakes in his face and straight into his eye sockets and settling uncomfortably inside his skull. Suddenly very awake, he full-body shivered at the strange, painful feeling. It was cold, so cold, his chest hurt and his limbs were sore and he could feel his magic, faint and fluttery, almost gone.

    If a monster's magic is gone, does the monster disappear too?

    Papyrus was still asleep beside him, but something didn't look quite right in the hollows of his eye sockets, and he was shaking slightly.

    "Oh shit, oh shit, Pap, please," Sans wrapped his arms around the baby and slipped his knees out from the jacket. He shook Papyrus gently. He poked him. He shouted as loudly as he dared. Suddenly it felt like everything around him was falling, a vertigo with him and Papyrus at the center.

    Papyrus wasn't waking up...

    He rose on unsteady feet, Papyrus clutched to his chest. The Scientist at the Bad Place would know what to do. But he couldn't. He... no. No.

    No.

    Every gasp of breath felt like a chore. Every part of him was burning. The wind howled, pushing the already weak and unbalanced skeleton so hard that he almost toppled over into the snow again.

    No.

    The path was right there, and he squinted. Light in the distance - the town. Maybe someone there was a Scientist, could help, could heal. But maybe The Scientist was still chasing them, maybe he was just down there, maybe if Sans stood there for five minutes longer, he would find them. Sans took a step forward anyway, every part of his brain telling him to turn around, every part of his body screaming for him to just stop.

    No.

    The wind, already freezing, was blowing the snow up into the air. Everything was howling, everything was spinning, and Sans knew they'd never make it. He'd walked too far into the woods last night, never knew he'd want to turn around, never knew they'd go back, stupid stupid _stupid-_

    Tears that had been threatening to fall for a long time finally burst out. He couldn't see, so he stopped walking anyway.

    Papyrus was quiet in his arms, the only sign of life being a slight twitch of fingers.

    Sans sobbed, the loudest sound he'd ever made in his life. He wailed.  Who cared who'd hear. Who cared. Nothing mattered anymore, it would be better to just go back and pretend like none of this had ever happened, he'd give it all back if Papyrus would wake up.

    He was choking and freezing and burning, and somewhere he got turned around because when he looked up to stare at the distant village again, just to wallow in despair, he was instead confronted with a door, not very far away, half-covered in snowdrifts.

    A door. Meaning a person, maybe. Anyone.

    Everything was on fire, but he struggled to his feet, heaving in great gulps of air as he tried to stop crying, stop crying so he could just _see_ , was this an illusion or-

    The door was solid under his fingers as his knees collapsed. He landed half-in half-on the snowdrift. Papyrus was still, somehow, in his arms. He sobbed, made a loose, shaking fist, and started banging as hard as he could.

    "Someone, anyone, please..."

 

* * *

 

    The easy warmth of the Ruins filled Toriel with a sense of comfort. Her morning rounds were familiar and even bolstered her mood these days, no longer simply reminders of a life left destroyed in the wake of tragedy. She'd learned to live with the sadness and loss that drifted behind her every step. This place was lonely, but it was hers.

    The next child that fell in, she thought, would be the one that stayed. She had to believe it.

    Her rounds brought her back into the house. She locked the door behind her absently, the scent of snail pie cooling on the counter making her grin slightly in anticipation, then headed downstairs for the final part of her morning ritual.

    As long as the door was secure, then she would be able to go about the rest of her day.

    She thought it to be her imagination, at first, an echo in the howling storm that she could hear through the thin walls of the basement. Just a phantom, the wind whistling through the branches and rattling the door.

    She thought that, at least, until she approached the door and put her hand on the lock.  It was then that she heard it clearly.

    " _Please, anyone, please, someone, please pleaseplease_..." The voice was hoarse and ragged, sobbing. Unmistakably a child's.

    There was only a single moment of hesitation. She had never allowed anyone entrance to this door, she had determined that she never would.

    But there was a child in danger.

    She held a hand out, made a decision, and then moved the locks with an urgency that she rarely possessed. Her hands felt far too warm, her heart was pounding. The door swung open, and she had barely half a second to react as some- someone fell into her arms. There was a flash of white bone, a blue jacket, a red bundle--

    "Oh, oh dear children," she gasped.

 

* * *

 

    The bigger skeleton may have been on the edge of unconsciousness, Toriel noted, but their grip on the baby in their arms never wavered, not once, not as she picked them up softly and carried them upstairs, not as she poured them into the spare bed gently, not as she wrapped them both in the warmest blankets in her house, not as she tenderly tried to pry their fingers away so she could get a good look at the baby.

    They were still breathing great hiccupping sobs, even as they only had the voice to whisper. They were still saying it, "please please please..." as if they hadn't been rescued, as if they didn't understand that they were _safe_ now... Toriel's heart hurt.

    "Shhhh, my child," she murmured. She brought over the still-warm snail pie. "Eat, please. Please, child, it will help."

    The shoulders, tiny inside the jacket they refused to take off, shook.

    She bit her lip, then sat down slowly beside the two tiny monsters. " _Icy_ that your little... sibling might need some healing magic," she started. " _Snow_ lie."

    The bigger skeleton sniffled, bleary gaze clearing a little, and she cheered internally. They slowly met her eyes with their own.

    "I might be on _thin ice_ , here," she continued, "and, call me a _flake,_ but can I hold them for you? I promise I'll take care of them. I'll give you some pie in return."

    The skeleton stared at her like she was the world's hardest puzzle. Slowly, slowly, she put a hand underneath the small red bundle - and they let her. "Good job," she praised as she lifted the baby into her arms. "I _snow_ it's not easy, you've been doing such a good job caring for them already, but sometimes there are things you can't do alone."

    With the baby out of their arms, the little skeleton seemed to have lost whatever determination was keeping them awake. Despite clearly struggling to stay lucid, the small monster was asleep within moments.

    Toriel breathed a sigh of relief, stood up slowly, and went back into the kitchen, rocking the baby monster gently in her arms and preparing to use her healing magic. Back in the guest room, the piece of snail pie sat innocently on the floor by the bed, not yet cooled, waiting for someone to wake up and eat it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: if babies being unhealthy is something you can't read, you should skip this one. It gets rough for a while there.


	3. Chapter 3

_Screaming and crying, let me go, nononostop that hurts, please, no more sharp things, I don't want to do this again, I can't, everything hurts, why---_

    Sans barely had the energy to open his eyes as something soft touched his skull. Even that touch hurt. He whimpered, voice breaking on the quiet note.

    "Hey, little one, be still. I will help," said a voice.

    The warm soft touch grew into a cool stream that tingled. It flowed down to his fingers and toes, slowly easing all the pain as it went. His body involuntarily relaxed, letting out a gusty sigh.

    "Oh dear," the voice said, Sans could barely make it out over the buzzing in his ears, "what have you been through, little one, that you would be this hurt?" It seemed to be choking slightly on its words. He twitched his fingers, wanting to reach up, to reassure the voice that it was okay, it was normal, but Papyrus didn't deserve...

    Awareness flooded through him with a terrifying urgency. "Pahhh-" he managed, struggling to move, to sit up, he had to see, had to know, had to hold-

    The room was so bright.

    "Oh dear, please lay down, I have not finished, you are still healing-"

    "P-Pap...pyrusss..." He slurred, looking around.

    "Wh-?" The voice stuttered and resolved itself into a large monster covered in blindingly white fur. "Please, I need to-"

    "P'russs," He hissed, reaching a hand out to swipe weakly at it, the most threatening he could be with his arms feeling so limp. Where was Papyrus, was he hurt, was he gone?

    "Your- your brother?" The monster seemed to have come to a realization. "He is right in the next room, he is fine." Then her eyes narrowed. " _Do not move_. I will be right back." She reached out a large paw to his shoulder, but he flinched away.

    She was gone quickly, moving fast for such a large monster. The silence, then, was overbearing, as the cool soothing feeling began to recede and all his pains came back full force. Now that he knew what it was like without it, the contrast made each twinge and burn feel several times worse. He focused on breathing, on pushing up, his feet unsteady, knees bending, body collapsing-

    -The floor was soft, too. So many soft things. Maybe he could lie here forever, go to sleep, _really_ sleep without bad dreams, Paps was probably already gone, maybe it was better this way-

    "Nyeh!" A tiny hand patted his forehead, another on the ridge of his nasal cavity. A giggle. "Saaaas?"

    He opened one eye. A smiling baby skeleton swam slowly into focus, and then back out again as Sans' eyes began burning with tears. But he was grinning back.

 

* * *

 

    When Sans woke up for a second time, it felt like he was covered in cotton. No pain at all. There was a wriggly, bony lump curled up at his side, and without thinking about it he reached an arm out to reassure himself Papyrus was there, like he'd done a thousand times.

    Papyrus immediately grabbed one of his fingers and started playing with it. Sans let him, just watching idly, just so glad to have Papyrus here and okay. Wherever they were, whatever had happened, they were still together. He couldn't quite remember, but it was okay. They were in a building, they hadn't been in a building since the Bad Place. They would have to get out fast-

    "Oh, good! You are awake!" Sans flinched so hard in surprise that he almost hit Papyrus on accident.

    There was a big monster in the room, white fur and small horns, nothing like any monster Sans had ever seen in his life. She was smiling at them, crouching down next to the bed as if to seem smaller and friendlier. She seemed... familiar, somehow. Like he'd dreamed about her.

    Maybe she was a nice Scientist. She seemed gentle.

    "Do you hurt anywhere?" She asked quietly.

    He took stock, the process automatic. "Full functionality of all extremities, no pain or discomfort. No changes in eyesight, brain functioning as usual, but there's a slight gap in my memory. Some trouble when waking up, reaction time decreased by several seconds, magic levels slightly above average and mostly centralized in my-"

    "That is enough, thank you," said the monster, looking a little bit taken aback. Sans blinked, was that not what she wanted? He wanted to apologize,  but bit it back. He needed to save it for when he really messed up, just in case she got tired of hearing it. Scientists got tired of things like that pretty fast.

    "I did not catch your name, little one," she continued. "I am Toriel. And you?"

    Papyrus was wiggling now, crawling up closer to Sans' face. He wrapped a protective arm around the baby and pulled the covers up. He couldn't really hide Paps, she clearly knew he was there, but maybe if he pretended like he wasn't, the Toriel Scientist would play along for a bit?

    "Subject-S1." He answered after fidgeting as much as he could allow himself.

    She swallowed. He went on, sitting up slightly to pull back his jacket sleeve and reveal the barcode tattooed into his ulna, realizing she might not know the numbers, "eight-three-seven-five-four-zero-"

    " _That's enough_." He flinched, again, dragging Papyrus with him deeper under the covers. The baby squeaked in protest, but settled back down as Sans rubbed his back soothingly. Sans did his best to look down, not meet the Toriel Scientist's eyes, waiting for what she'd say or do next.

    "I am not angry at you, child," she said after a moment, "merely angry _for_ you." He didn't understand the difference. "And your brother, what is his name?"

    "Subject-P2." He didn't know Papyrus's numbers, they hadn't scanned him very much around Sans so he never got a good look at the screen. He hoped he could get away with not showing her the barcode. Maybe she would forget. Maybe she would forget that Papyrus wasn't a real monster, and he could get out. It was too late for Sans anyway.

    "You called him something different when you were awake earlier, though," the Toriel Scientist pushed. "It started with a 'P', I know."

      Sans shook his head so hard that there was a creaking sound in his vertebrae. He was awake earlier? He didn't remember that. The last thing he remembered was the snow, and darkness.

    "Well, that's alright, my child. You can tell me in your own time." Toriel shifted, lifting a plate to the bed. "I made some butterscotch-cinnamon pie today, I hope you do not mind. If- if you do not like cinnamon, or butterscotch, then I made sure to leave the snail pie from yesterday in the freezer. I can go warm it up for you?"

    Sans reached a hand out from under the covers and poked the food. It was soft, sticky, and warm, and his fingers came away with some sort of brown stuff on them. He wondered how he was supposed to pick it up without making a mess. There was a metal thing next to it, with several points to it. Was that supposed to-

    Toriel was watching. He clenched his jaw. He'd figure this out, and maybe that would be what she wanted. Maybe she'd go away.

    Papyrus crawled out, then, whining from the heat and being ignored. The smell of the pie must have been enticing, because the first thing he did was stick his hand right in the middle, pull out a handful, and shove it in his mouth.

    "P-!" Sans started the name, then choked before he could finish. Toriel was watching. What if there was something wrong with the food, what if it was drugged again, maybe it would hurt? Sans should have been the first one to try it, should have been faster, better, smarter. He heard a startled laugh from the Toriel Scientist and his cheeks burned with shame.

    There was pie all over Papyrus's cheeks now, and over his fingers as he reached for more. Sans grabbed the tiny hand quickly, and rubbed all over it with his sleeve, trying to get the sticky stuff off.

    "Goodness, I should have known... here, let me-" Toriel reached towards Papyrus. It was too fast, too much, too big, and in the process of pulling Papyrus out of her reach Sans' elbow caught the plate, sent it flying off the bed and--

    The crashing noise made all three monsters freeze.

    No amount of apologizing could fix this. Breaking things was Bad. Sans braced himself, slowly breathing out, determined not to cry.

 


	4. Chapter 4

    Toriel could see that there was something terribly wrong in the way that the little skeletons had been treated. The baby - she would not call them those ridiculous names, she utterly refused - was the happiest child she'd ever seen, despite the small pockmarks lining his forearms and the way he would grow startlingly still if she spoke too loudly. The older child, on the other hand...

    He seemed scared of everything, even his own shadow.

    It had taken her several minutes to understand that it was herself causing him to be so unsettled. But even after that, she hadn't wanted to leave them alone...

    And now, plate broken on the floor and child frozen in a tableau of guilt and fear, she saw the way he tensed, breath catching, as if waiting for something, as if a shoe was going to drop.  This was a moment where everything hung in the balance, she sensed.

    And she leapt forward, metaphorically, headfirst.

    "Well, I have several more of those, so I am not particularly _shattered_ ," she began, "besides, it was just cheap _pie-na_ , I do not exactly pull out my best dinnerware when there are children around."

    The older skeleton slowly put his arm down from its protective position. He stared at her with wide eyes, uncertain magic in the depths swirling blue, and  hand trembling.

    She switched tracks. "It is going _tibia_ -k, now. I was getting a bit _bonely_ living here all by myself with _no body_ around," she started, pulling out a rag from a pocket and absentmindedly cleaning up the mess as best she could, " _No body_ to appreciate my _skull_ at baking, especially. I have almost a whole pie left, and I would love to share it with you. And that isn't a _fibula_.

    "If you think these puns are _humerus_ , I am sure I can come up with a _fe-mur_ ," she added as an afterthought, "c'mon, _throw me a bone_!"

    At this point he almost looked confused, like he didn't understand a word she had said. But he was no longer bracing himself.

    It was enough. She grinned back, full-force, so hard her cheeks hurt.

 

* * *

 

    The kids both ate up the pie like it was their last meal. She swore she saw the older one shove a piece into his pocket and winced. She'd need to get that jacket off of him at some point and into the wash. It was far too big on him, he was almost swimming in it, and it looked - and smelled, to be honest - like it hadn't seen soap in years.

    But for now, she was hesitant to do anything to cause him more discomfort. If he needed the jacket for a sense of security, she was loathe to take it from him just yet. Not when he still looked at her as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. Not while he kept carefully tucking his brother under and behind him every time the baby started crawling away, as if to shield him from whatever horrors she would inevitably unleash.

    Where had these boys come from, she wondered. What kind of monster - no, what kind of _wretched creature_ could do such things to a child?

    What had happened in her absence to allow such atrocities?

    Guilt and shame battered the walls of resolve she had built so long ago. But there was nothing to be done now except move forward, care for the children as best she could. Pick up the pieces and maybe build something better.

    After all, there was obviously no one else who cared about them. They would stay.

 

* * *

 

    After Toriel left the room saying something about getting groceries, Sans counted the seconds. Carefully listened to the footsteps as she went down the hall.

    Five, six, and he was up on his feet and rifling through the blankets on the bed. Toriel had taken away Papyrus' red one, but that was okay, there was a blue one that was pretty nice, and it felt like it would be a lot warmer. Just in case.

    Papyrus must have found something amusing in Sans' frantic, calculated movements because he clapped, giggling loudly, until Sans crouched down next to him and put a hand over his mouth. "Shhhhh, shhhhh bro." The rest of the pie went in another pocket - Sans frowned, his hands were gonna be sticky forever after this, but he couldn't leave behind good food - and they were off.

    He had no idea where they were heading, or which direction they had come from, honestly. But they needed to get Out. Being inside meant-

    -well, everything bad. He forcibly wrenched his thoughts away before they took him too far back to the Bad Place.

    The door was cracked, he leaned up near the frame and peeked out.

    In the hallway, warm soft light spilled over the wooden floor and the carpet. There was even a plant sitting out in a pot. This whole place was the strangest lab Sans had ever seen.

    The door creaked a little as Sans eased it open, and he gritted his teeth. Papyrus began wiggling in his arms. Sans' magic pounded so loudly in his ears that he swore it was shaking the building.

    He swallowed and started creeping down the hallway.

 

* * *

 

    Toriel read through her list a sixth time. What else did children need?

    Milk, of course. That should have been first on her list. Calcium. Strong bones. (Then she snorted.)

    She would have to stop by a clothing store, too. So much to do.

    Stark against the surrounding silence, the sound of a creak off in the distance gave her pause. Was that-?

    Perhaps she was imagining things.

    She strained her hearing, just to make sure. Would it seem overbearing if she went to check on the children already? Perhaps being alone was too stressful.

    The sound of small feet shuffling quietly on carpet drew her attention. It was likely he needed something, then. She put the list down and picked up the hem of her dress, moving slowly so as not to startle the skeleton, but she abandoned that as soon as she saw--

    His hand was on the door just as she rounded the corner--

    "Wait--"

    He was through and out, just as she reached the doorway. She reached for his shoulder--

    He choked out a sob, pushed an arm out, a blue glow emanating from his eye, and she felt herself hit the far wall and fall to the stairs below--

    She was aware, faintly, that she sustained injuries, but her mind was focused on the rapidly disappearing back of the latest children to leave her.


	5. Chapter 5

    Sans was good at puzzles. It had been part of his daily routine, back there. He was usually a fast learner and could see patterns in things. These puzzles were the easiest yet, to be honest, and if Sans were in a good mood and the situation was less urgent he might even be bored by them. Instead, he was thankful.

    Papyrus clung to his jacket and babbled all the way as Sans jogged quickly  through another passageway. The next corner was right up ahead -

    The floor gave a peculiar cracking noise and fell out from underneath them. All the air seemed to whoosh out of Sans' lungs, his stomach turned, his vision went dark as his head spun and they were falling down down down-

    _"Ooof,"_ Sans groaned. He saw stars for a second, panic still bleeding slowly out of his every nerve. Papyrus was laughing and patting his cheekbones. The pile of red and orange leaves beneath them was soft and crunchy. They had landed gently. They were fine.

    He stared at the ground around them, connecting the pieces as quickly and easily as if he'd known the answer all along, and groaned. A puzzle that made you fail in order to see the solution... that was frustrating. He didn't even need to read the sign on the wall nearby, but he did anyway. _Please don't step on the leaves._

    He huffed. Clever. In a dumb kind of way.

    The false floor above them began to knit itself back together in the way that magic-based puzzles tend to do. Even if Toriel had run after them, she would have to deliberately lose at her own puzzle to find them. And for a moment, Sans thought they were alone, considered taking a moment to breathe, but.

    _"Oh... hey... Uh, sorry, I didn't expect anyone... I can get out of here, so I don't bother you... I guess..."_ Sans' head whipped around so fast that the black spots wormed back in the edges of his eyesight for a moment. He let his magic glow in his eye defensively.

    A floating... monster? Of some kind? Almost transparent, with deep round eyes. They were  floating half-in, half-out of a nearby bank of leaves. Sans' first thought was to run, but...

    ...this monster seemed just as afraid of them as Sans was of him, honestly. That meant they couldn't be a Scientist. Papyrus didn't even have the sense to be afraid, reaching out to the stranger with both hands, babbling a greeting.

    The stranger seemed to startle as they noticed the baby in Sans' arms. _"Oh..."_ they hummed, surprised. They floated closer hesitantly.

    The adrenaline was still pounding through Sans' nonexistent veins, the rush and fear still heady in him, but it was getting harder to keep it up. Even though he was physically feeling better than he ever had in his entire life, emotionally he was still exhausted. They had an acceptable hiding spot for the moment, and were talking to possibly the least threatening monster he'd ever seen. They reminded him of that Whimsun that had been brought in to the Bad Place once (just less... sobby). That little monster had been a victim, just like Sans.

    Okay.

    _"He's... cute..."_ the monster said, staring at Papyrus softly. Then they curled in on themself a little, self-consciously, and moved away. _"Sorry, I'll get out of your way..."_

    "Wait!" Sans said, before he could think better of it.

    The floating monster paused, waiting.

    "We need to... there are bad people after us. They hurt us, a lot. I need to get him safe. Where is safe?"

    The monster stilled, not even bobbing up and down as they hovered in midair. _"Safe...?"_

    "With no Scientists."

    _"There aren't any scientists in the Ruins... not that I know of... there's barely anybody at all..."_ Their tremulous voice trailed off.

    Sans rubbed his skull. He just wanted a straight answer. He wanted to know there was somewhere they could stop running, sleep, Papyrus could grow up without having to hurt-

    _"If you want, I can show you some secret places that I've found...? Spots no one knows about, I think... you'll be safe there, I'm pretty sure... but only if you want."_

    Papyrus clapped, and Sans agreed wholeheartedly.

    "Lead the way!"

 

* * *

 

    _"It's not bad being a ghost sometimes..."_ Napstablook, as they had introduced themself, was saying. _"You can find places no one else can... or fly... I like flying..."_

    "What's flying feel like?" Sans asked, carefully stepping around another vacant spiderweb. Thanks to Napstablook's shortcuts, they had gotten around several more dangerous looking spike puzzles and were now in an abandoned corridor behind a secret wall of hanging vines. 

    Napstablook was the _best_.

    _"Oh... it feels like anything, really... but you get to see things from way up high... it's nice to get a little perspective now and then."_

    The corridor's end was coming up. Sans was glad, he was a little nervous in confined spaces. The baby seemed to be doing fine, though. In fact, he seemed to absolutely _adore_ Napstablook, who didn't seem to know what to do about it. Every time Papyrus made grabby hands towards the ghost, they floated closer and then away again nervously.

    Sans breathed a sigh of relief as they walked out into an open area again. _"Here we are..."_ Napstablook said anxiously. _"I don't think anyone has been here in a long time... what do you think?"_

    The skeleton looked around at the dusty cave outfitted like a small house, light from the Ruins drifting lazily across abandoned furniture and cobwebs. It was a great secret, and an even better hideaway.

    "It's great." The tightness in his chest was back, and tears prickled on the edge of his sockets, but it was a good feeling. They were hidden, they were safe. Nobody was going to find them, not anymore. Nobody could hurt them.

    They were _safe._

    "You... you won't tell anybody we're here, right?"

    There was a slight pause before the ghost answered, _"I don't know who I'd tell, anyway..."_

    Sans shook his head, "no, you gotta promise. Promise you won't tell anyone where we are."

    They bobbed up and down. _"...promise."_

    Sans nodded decisively. A pact had been made.

 

* * *

 

      Napstablook drifted calmly back towards Waterfall. It had been a pleasant day, they had met some very nice monsters, and even got a little sun when they had wandered by a flowerpatch.

    Things were shaping up very nicely. Their cousin would be glad to hear-

      " **Napstablook!** " Toriel seemed upset. That was odd. She was always so serene, sometimes she would even sit around and feel like garbage with them for a while if they asked nicely.

    She was out of breath, fur rumpled, eyes wide and worried. "Have you seen two children? Skeletons, one is a baby, the other is older? The older one has a blue jacket."

    _"Oh..."_

    "I know the Ruins are fairly safe, but when they came to me they were so hurt, and I just..."

    " _Yeah, I met them... they were really nice..._ "

    She straightened up in shock, as if she hadn't expected that answer. "Where are they? Are they all right?"

     Napstablook did their best interpretation of a shrug. " _They seemed alright to me..._ "

    "Take me to them. Please!"

    _"Oh... I can't do that... sorry..."_ They drifted away a bit in discomfort. This was such a tense conversation for them, they didn't like it very much. _"He made me promise not to tell anyone where they were... I think they'll be fine though. They seemed to want to be alone."_

    Toriel looked so sad all of a sudden. Napstablook felt really guilty. Oh no, they'd said something wrong again.

    "Can you... if I give you some things, can you give it to them? They are far too young to be alone like that. And if you could try to convince them to come home with me, I would really appreciate it.

     But he has to make the choice on his own," she added. "It is kind of you to protect them. I think they have been through a lot, and they need someone on their side. You're a good friend."

    Napstablook fought a blush. They hadn't expected such praise... it made them very uncomfortable.

    _"I'll do what I can to help..."_


	6. Chapter 6

    "Look at this, Paps! We have a bed!" Sans exclaimed after throwing open another door. He had been running around excitedly for several minutes now, cataloguing everything left behind when the previous owners had left.

    Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, but it was theirs now.

    Papyrus clung tightly to his jacket, shouting randomly in excitement along with his brother. Sans swung him down into a chair (after wiping it down with his free hand a bit) and then started pulling blankets off the abandoned bed.

    Waves of dust and grime came with it.

    "...it needs some work, I guess, but it's _ours_." He was ecstatic, even as he shivered at the irritants in the air. They may not have had lungs, necessarily, but it still felt uncomfortable to breathe it in.

    Cleaning up took a lot of effort, but Sans had more energy now than he could ever remember feeling in his life. He wasn't quite sure how monsters generally went about cleaning up, exactly, but wiping down everything was a good first step. He dunked some crusty towels in the nearby stream and soon there was a shine on everything that wasn't rusted over. There was a mustiness in the air that hovered around despite any attempts to air everything out, though.

    The drawbacks to living in a cave instead of a lab, he guessed.

    Papyrus cheered him on the whole way, waving his arms around and copying Sans clumsily, rolling around and crawling behind him. It was all well and good, until...

    _"Hello...?"_ The voice of their new friend drifted back to them.

    Papyrus shrieked. Sans dropped his towel in alarm, full-body cringing, then forcibly calmed himself and straightened up. They were okay, they could make noise. It was alright.

    "Hey, Blook, what's up?"

    The ghost seemed to shrug, despite having no shoulders. _"Toriel asked me to give you some stuff... so here I am, I guess."_ The air around them shimmered as they reached into pocketspace and out popped a pile of... yeah, stuff.

    "Toriel?" Sans asked, frowning. Really?

   _"She's the caretaker for the Ruins... she's really nice..."_

    He stared distrustfully at the pile. The blankets looked so soft and clean, and there was food... but she was a Scientist, wasn't she? There would be traps. There would be tests.

    "What kind of Scientist is she?" He asked. Papyrus had crawled past him and towards Napstablook, so he grabbed his brother by the midsection and pulled him into his arms, despite Papyrus' vehement protests.

    _"Scientist...? She's not a scientist, I'm pretty sure."_ Napstablook looked confused, and Sans felt the same.

    "She healed us. That's what Scientists do. You know, to get ready for the next round of tests. You have to have a clean slate. And stuff," he added nervously. Suddenly he wasn't so sure. She _had_ been really nice...nicer than anyone he could ever remember. Maybe she _could_ do that stuff, just because they were hurt. But...

    _"That's..."_ Napstablook seemed taken aback. _"That's really, um, I don't even know what to say. Toriel wants to help you because she just likes to help people... she's not a scientist, and she doesn't want to run tests on you. That would be... no."_

    It was as if Sans was trying to put together a puzzle with only half the pieces there.

    The ghost seemed to deflate, and become more see-through if that was possible. _"Did I do something that made you think that... I told you something wrong, didn't I..."_

    "No, no!" Sans shook his head decisively. "I just. I just don't understand. It's not you."

    _"No, it was probably me..."_

    Trying to reassure Napstablook didn't seem to be very effective, and that wasn't Sans' biggest concern right now. His biggest concern...

    "So you're saying this is safe?" He changed the subject abruptly, eyeing the pile.

    _"Of course... I promise..."_ That brought a little color back into Blook's face.

    "Okay." He looked at Papyrus, who was grinning back. "Wanna check out our new stuff?" He set the baby down next to the edge of the pile and started rummaging through.

    Clothes, blankets, food. Some books. One of them was a math book, and he ran a hand over the smooth cover with a mixture of longing and fear. He'd always liked math, really, it came easy and the numbers always got along. Things made sense. But math could also hurt.

    "NEHHHH!" Papyrus, one arm shoved down a pair of Papyrus-sized pants, was reaching up for the ghost determinedly. Napstablook hovered uncertainly just above him.

    " _Sorry... I'm intangible..._ "

    "NYEH!"

    Sans laughed, pulled the book close to his chest, and let the warm feeling grow.

    Things were going to be alright.

 

* * *

 

    Napstablook came through at least once a day, staying for several hours to keep an eye on the children. Toriel had a right to be worried, they concluded. It seemed like the kids had been through a lot...

    And they had trust issues. It had taken several visits for the older skeleton to finally open up and tell them their names.

    "Sans..." He had muttered into his jacket self-consciously. Then he had perked up, lifting his little brother in the air by his armpits and declaring quietly - but proudly - "and this is Papyrus!" He had spun around until Papyrus was dizzy and giggly.

    Toriel gave them more things to deliver to the kids daily. Mostly food. Napstablook didn't mind, it was nice to have friends to visit. Each time, though, she asked them to talk to Sans about her. Try and talk him into staying with her instead.

    Napstablook agreed, of course. Sans couldn't keep an eye on Papyrus forever. And the more they talked, the more they realized that Sans knew barely anything at all about _anything_. Wherever Sans had come from - and he clammed up tight whenever the subject was even barely hinted at - he hadn't gotten out much. The kid was flying by the seat of his pants.

    He was smart, though. He went through Toriel's books so fast, Napstablook couldn't believe it. Toriel was going to have to make a special trip soon to scrounge up more reading material washed up from above. "He'll read me out of house and home," she joked, then sternly instructed them not to repeat that to Sans.

    Sans really only read nonfiction. Math and biology and other sciences especially. Toriel had sent over a beginner physics book after much deliberation, only for Napstablook to report back happily that Sans was spending hours poring over it, struggling a little but working hard to understand.

    The kid liked to learn.

    Sometimes it made Napstablook guilty though... they could tell it made Toriel feel inadequate as a teacher. If Sans ever decided to move in with her Sans would already be leagues above her head in some ways. And she was already struggling to understand which books he needed next. They could tell it was making her a little sad and worried.

    The wait, and the stress, were not exactly good for her. It was all Napstablook's fault...

    It was wearing Sans down, too. Spending so much time in a confined space was not a good idea for any kid, much less one who had already gotten a taste of freedom. He had explored every inch of the cave house, cleaned everything from top to bottom, and was starting to helicopter-parent Papyrus to where even the baby was getting a little bit annoyed with his smothering.

    That was probably the last straw that led to Sans finally, hesitantly, agreeing to meet with Toriel. Just for a little bit. Just with Napstablook there.

    But it was a step forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some exposition-type stuff this time, but it gives Sans some important things to think about...
> 
> Also, uh, game mechanics. Inventory. I don't know. *waves hands*
> 
> (Coming up next: Toriel!!!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday, and I'm celebrating the hobbit way: you all get a present! Here it is.

    After Sans agreed to meet, actually arranging to do so was a bit of a struggle. Toriel eventually suggested the room where she often refilled a bowl with monster candy, as she did not know where they were staying. She knew the room was somewhat near the middle of the Ruins, so perhaps Sans would not tire so much while carrying his brother. All Napstablook would tell her was that they were living alone.

    She arrived early enough to lay out a picnic basket and the thickest, softest blanket she could find after sending most of them to the children. She sat down with legs folded underneath her, hands clasped, glasses perched on her nose and a book nearby.

    She waited.

    Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

    She reached for the book.

    She put it down.

    She opened up the basket, took inventory, moved a few things around so nothing was going to get squished.

    She stood up to refill the candy bowl.

    She picked up the book again, reading a few paragraphs before setting it back down.

    The corners of the blanket were rumpled: she needed to flatten it out-

   _"Hey..."_

    Stretched out like she was, reaching for the far corner of the blanket, she startled so much that she almost fell flat on her face. "Oh! Goodness, I..."

    Sans was there, standing in the doorway with the same dirty jacket, holding Papyrus wrapped up in a red blanket and turning his face into the lining of the hood until only one of his eye sockets was visible. There was a wild, lost look in it.

    She felt her heart melt again.

    "It is good to see you. Would you like to sit down?" She asked, patting the blanket next to her. Sans hesitated, then walked towards her on shaky legs. He looked so young and tiny, and clearly scared. He stopped just before he reached the edge of the blanket farthest from her and stood there, frozen.

    He was so _brave._ She knew better than to push. It was better to get to know him first, grow some trust. And if Napstablook was right, there was one thing Sans loved to talk about more than anything.

    "How is Papyrus doing?" She asked.

    He flinched. "Um..."

    Silence.

    Napstablook hovered in the doorway, clearly discomfited by the awkward, tense atmosphere. They stayed, though, dutifully, and Toriel thanked them mentally for it. Sans clearly needed some kind of support system, intangible though they may be.

    She tried again, "Is he old enough to walk yet? I hear he has been getting more adventurous lately."

    Two small fists clenched and unclenched tightly in the red blanket they were holding. Two tiny white pinpricks of light from within the sockets stared stoically down at the baby.

    Silence.

    Until Papyrus whined, smacking a fist into Sans' arm fussily. Sans' small shoulders shook underneath the jacket, and then he slowly lowered himself to sit, as far from Toriel as possible.

    The baby took advantage and started crawling and rolling around. He babbled unhappily whenever Sans grabbed him around the middle and pulled him closer, but it was clear Sans wanted to keep Papyrus far from her.

    That was... she was chilled and warmed by it all at once. 

    "How are the books?" She tried again, softer this time. Sans didn't bother looking up at her. Perhaps this was a bad idea, he wasn't ready. They had pushed too hard and fast-

    "Gd."

    Her breath caught. She smiled.

    "That is great. I enjoy english and art, but I know less about math, and even less about the sciences. I have worried quite a bit about whether I was sending the appropriate books."

    There was a strange furrow in his nonexistent brow. Disbelief? Confusion?

    It was a reaction, in any case, and she felt bolstered by it. "If there is anything else you need, I can _add_ it to my list, it is no _problem_. I made us a lunch if that's all right, and afterwards we can have some _pi_. I admit, it is rather _plane_ , so give me a _sine_ if you like it or not. I promise I will not be _obtuse_ about it."

    A strange change came across Sans' face as she spoke. With each pun, the edges of his mouth flickered as if he wanted to smile, but was fighting it.

    "You're being funny," he said, almost skeptically.

    With a muffled giggle, she tapped her nose and winked. "Better believe it." He didn't pull back into himself as their eyes met, which was a victory in and of itself.

    While she reached into the basket to pull out the sandwiches, he took a deep breath, and then pointed at Papyrus who was happily chewing on the edge of the blanket. "Acute."

    It took her less than a second, and then she wheezed in surprise and delight. "Definitely. _Acute angle_ , I would even say."

    "Angle?" He ruminated on it while she unwrapped everything and set it out. Mostly solid finger foods, and soft foods in small jars for Papyrus, so when they inevitably wound up in a pocket they wouldn't be inedible later.

    "Angel," she said. "Not one of my better ones, perhaps. Geometry puns... are a slippery _slope_."

    He didn't seem to bother fighting the small grin this time. And when she handed him a sandwich, he reached for it with only slight hesitation.

 

* * *

 

    "You know," Sans started quietly after a few bites, "I had no idea what you were doing, before. With the words. But, your voice was silly when you said them. I liked it."

    "You mean the puns?" She asked.

    "Like with 'bonely' and 'skull' and stuff."

    She nodded, still grinning, "...but you figured it out?"

    "Yeah. It's just a puzzle." He shrugged as he pulled Papyrus into his lap and started pulling off pieces of the sandwich and feeding him.

    "That is really amazing, Sans. You are clever for catching on. And for making up your own right away, too." Oh god, why was his face getting warm? Why was she saying this stuff? "Good job, Sans." He buried his face into the back of Papyrus' so he wouldn't have to look at her. It was such a weird feeling. He wasn't sure if he liked it.

    Gahhh, this was so awkward.

    "Papyrus is smarter," he said, suddenly wanting her to acknowledge Papyrus instead. Papyrus deserved the bright, blinding sunshine of her approval much more. "He knows my name."

    "Really?" She asked, playfully feigning surprise.

    "Yeah. Watch this..." He turned Papyrus around to face him and rubbed foreheads playfully. "Who am I, Paps? Who am I? What's my name?"

    Papyrus giggled and reached for the sides of Sans' face, hands sticky.

    "Sans, right? I'm Sans!"

    Obediently, Papyrus cooed, "SAAAAAS!"

    Sans glanced up at Toriel, who had a hand over her mouth. Her eyes were sparkling. He ducked his head down again, suddenly self-conscious.

    The rest of the lunch was much easier to bear after that. Sans started getting a little braver, telling her things he'd learned from his books and the things that Papyrus had gotten into that he shouldn't. Napstablook stopped hovering in the doorway at some point and started helping him with the descriptions and words he didn't know.

    It was great, really... but then she started asking if they wanted to move in with her.

    And Sans _couldn't_.

    She left it there, hovering between them like wisps of heavy dark smoke that refused to dissipate. Sans _couldn't_. There was always the chance, she seemed so nice, but there was always the chance.

    "Could we come back again?" He asked instead. "I could show you the pictures Pap drew. They're all scribbly and cool. He likes the bright colors."

    Her smile was sadder, now, but understanding. He hoped, anyway. "That would be very nice, Sans. When do you want to do this again?"

    He wasn't used to making decisions like this. What if he chose wrong? She would hate him. He curled in on himself nervously, "Not tomorrow, but the tomorrow-tomorrow?"

    "The day after tomorrow would be wonderful. I would love to see you then."

    "Yeah."

    They left first, letting her clean up. Then she couldn't see where they were heading. It was part of the agreement that Napstablook had helped them hash out.

    As they walked to the hidden entrance of their hideaway, Sans whispered secretly to Papyrus, "She's nice. I like her."

    Napstablook hid a smile.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, things get worse before they get better.

    Toriel had created a monster.

    "Aww, don't be so _sternum_ , Blook," Sans said two days later, uselessly trying to pull up a too-long jacket sleeve. "We're going _tibia_ ready in just a second."

    Napstablook wasn't even _being_ stern, they hadn't even said anything since arriving ten minutes previous.

    (They knew the human anatomy textbook Toriel sent was a mistake the second they laid eyes on it).

    The upside to Sans' newly discovered hobby was that Papyrus' reactions were _hilarious_. The baby couldn't understand puns, but could understand The Voice, and he knew his brother was being silly. And when Sans didn't stop, it got old for the kid, very, very fast.

    Papyrus had learned the word "no".

    "NO!" Papyrus said, pushing both tiny hands against Sans' mouth, as if he could forcibly stop Sans from committing more atrocities against the english language.

    "Aww, c'mon," Sans said, "I'm _Sans-sational_ , admit it!"

    "NO!"

    "Alright, alright, jeez. We'll get going. Let's just grab your latest masterpieces to show Toriel-"

    "NO!"

    "Yeaaaahh."

    "NO!"

    Napstablook sighed.

 

* * *

 

    They met up again. And again. And each time, Toriel offered Sans the invitation.

    And each time, he refused.

    It was fine.

    Until it wasn't.

 

* * *

 

    Sans listened to Papyrus as he babbled random syllables, as usual. They were getting clearer every day, Sans swore, and someday he'd wake up to Papyrus composing soliloquies. Just like that. He was so proud.

    He could hear the noises echoing off the thick smooth walls and wanted to kick something. He was starting to realize there was something he couldn't really ignore anymore:

    The cave was unbearably small.

    Separated into different rooms as it was, sometimes there was very little room to walk around, and Sans hadn't actually been doing much walking lately. Everything was sore, just a bit, unstretched joints twinging every time he moved. The only time he'd been outside lately was to meet with Toriel, and he wasn't comfortable enough yet to be touched, and _definitely_ not to ask for healing. It wasn't that bad anyway.

    Just irritating.

    There were so many things to run into if he tried running around the house, and bouncing on the bed left him breathless quickly. He was never that strong or fit in the first place. But he was _bored out of his skull_. And wanted _out_.

    He turned over, sprawled out over the floor while Papyrus played with his toys nearby, and looked at the ceiling up above. A block rolled over and hit him gently on the scapula, accompanied by a frustrated sound from the younger skeleton. He shuffled himself a few feet without actually getting up to take a look at what Papyrus was doing.

    He noticed immediately, like a drench of cold water, that there was something missing. He counted, and counted again, and then counted a third time to be sure. There was a big red block that was supposed to fit into the blue one that was _not there anymore_. Papyrus didn't even seem to notice it was gone, but it bugged Sans.

    It was gone. Where was it...?

    He peeked through every room in the house, worried for the missing block (he knew, in his mind, that it was ridiculous - Papyrus had all these other blocks, he didn't even seem to care, so what was the big deal?).  But it was. Now the block set wasn't perfect. Wasn't complete. Toriel would see that they didn't care about the stuff she was giving them, and would hate them.

    Chilled to the bone, Sans suddenly remembered the last time he'd seen it. They had been visiting Toriel in their picnic room in the Ruins.

    Oh no. What if someone ran off with it? They would lose it. It would be bad. It would be so bad.

    And all he had to do was run and get it. Stretch his legs. He jumped up and down at the thought. Suddenly everything in him was _aching_ for this.

     _"Hey..."_ Napstablook's entrance had rarely been this opportune.

    "Blook. I need you to watch Papyrus."

_"...what?"_ The ghost seemed taken aback. Sans needed out, needed out and he would find the block and he would be back, it was alright.

    "I just need to go back to the candy room. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." Before Napstablook could protest, Sans was halfway to the corridor leading out into the main part of the Ruins.

    He barely heard, echoing behind him as he started jogging a little, _"He... does know I'm intangible, right...?"_

 

* * *

 

    There were rarely any little monsters in the Ruins, and it was even rarer to see them initiate fights. Sans tried not to be all that worried (even though he was). He hadn't had to FIGHT since they had run away. He wasn't sure he was good at it anymore. And one misstep, one wrong move-

    Well.

    There was a reason Papyrus was made, after all. All _His_ research down the drain if Sans kicked the bucket.

    Napstablook had been agreeable to getting them around the Ruins when necessary. Nothing could hurt a ghost. Now it was up to Sans.

    A movement out of the corner of his eye. He flinched. A leaf drifted by on the wind.

    The room was just up ahead.

    He sped up, big jacket flopping in the air behind him as he ran. Just another minute... it _had_ to be there.

    The entranceway.

    Feet hurting in his too-new shoes, breath caught, stumbling - _here!_ He grabbed the block from behind the candy bowl, where it must have been tossed the other day by mistake.

    The adrenaline left him at once, and he breathed out, and he laughed to himself. Of course it was fine. _Of course_ it was there. A shaky hand to his chest, and it was then that he felt it.

_The ground shook_.

    His knees gave out in a fraction of a moment. Everything was- everything was _moving_ , vibrations from under his feet, the whole ground swaying-

    Palms on the ground, staring at the floor to keep down the sudden nausea, he didn't see the pedestal holding the candy bowl start to rock.

 

* * *

 

    Napstablook hovered nervously over Papyrus, who had noticed Sans was gone and was starting to blubber dramatically.

     _"Hey... it's okay... sort of..."_ they attempted. As Papyrus focused on them, they smiled.  And Papyrus immediately forgot what he was crying about, reaching up to Napstablook as if he could touch them.

     _"Oh no......... I honestly wish I could hold you..."_ the ghost blushed.

    The ground shook, an immediate jolt that had Papyrus shrieking and starting to cry, and Napstablook's dead, nonexistent heart racing. Everything started shifting, furniture rattled and swayed and-

    Oh no....... Napstablook did the only thing they could think of. Papyrus was now in their pocketspace, and none too soon...

    Everything crashed down around them.

 

* * *

 

    Toriel was sitting down when she felt it. Her chair swayed side to side, cabinets clattered, something fell and broke and

    Oh no. The children.

    It was over quickly enough for her to gather herself, breathing out a quick "oh _shit_ ," and run.

 

* * *

 

    Napstablook found her quickly.

    "Where's-"

  _"I have Papyrus..."_ Blook gave a deliberate shrug as if selecting an option from a menu, pocketspace opened, and a baby appeared, shaken and crying and looking rather cold. Toriel scooped him up and pulled him close, rocking him as gently as she could with shaking hands.

    "Where is _Sans_?"

    Napstablook was crying.

 

* * *

 

    Sans coughed. Something had pushed him over...  There was something wrong with his chest. Pain shrieked up and down his legs. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't move.

    And Papyrus. Where was-??

    He needed to get up, he--

    His vision went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still around, don't worry! I have quite a bit drafted up for this story, so.
> 
> I want to thank you guys - everyone who's read, kudos'd or reviewed so far for giving me the courage to keep going! This is my first fic and you will not believe how nervous I am each time I post a chapter. So your encouragement really means a lot. :')
> 
> (Also, a big public thanks to my mom who is betaing this for me, despite never having played Undertale, and never even having read a fanfic in her entire life. She is such a trooper.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content advisory: The pedestal fell on Sans, so, broken bones and lots of screaming. (I'm sorry in advance)

    "Where is he?" Toriel snapped again. Papyrus was visibly upset by her tone and volume, struggling in her arms.

    Napstablook sobbed thick acidic tears. _"...Candy room..."_

    She desperately wanted to know what the hell Sans was doing way over there, but bit the question back. No time.

    "Come on," she said instead, firmly and quickly, "I do not know how stable the Ruins will be after that earthquake. Be ready to take Papyrus the _second_ anything happens." She started down the corridors in a brisk half-jog, eyeing everything around her just in case something decided to crumble as they passed.

    Napstablook had no choice but to follow.

    She maneuvered past each puzzle with the ease of long familiarity, heart beating fast, Papyrus wailing in her ears. She couldn't lose another child, she couldn't, she wouldn't-

    Her heart stopped, a shrill tendril of fear going all the way to her toes. She skidded to a stop mere inches from the purple-tinged rubble. A part of the passageway had collapsed. There was no way.

    She turned, then, to Napstablook. "Find him," she said, every syllable crisp and clear and _final._

    And Napstablook went.

    She bounced Papyrus in her arms as gently as she could, his tiny head dwarfed by her paw, and hoped, and prayed, and started digging.

 

* * *

 

    Napstablook hurried down the corridors as fast as they could float. Everything was clear after that one small cave-in. That was.....good.....

    They rounded the corner, tears prickling in their eyes, the sound of sobbing coming from a distance and. There. Sans was wailing, bony fingers scraping uselessly on the ground and on the piece of stone lodged in his chest, trapped underneath the pedestal.

    Napstablook could see chunks of bone and dust where some ribs had given way and had to resist the urge to throw up.

_"Sans... Sans............"_

    Sans didn't seem to hear them.

_"Sans... oh no..........."_

    The kid kept wailing, voice breaking on the high note, eyes dark and unseeing.

_"Sans!"_

    The noise cut off into a whimper, Sans' spine jerking suddenly, and then, a voiceless exhalation "Blook?"

    Napstablook was seriously crying now, big fat tears hitting the ground with a hissing noise. _"Yeah..."_

    Small, wavering lights in Sans' sockets suddenly whispered into being. The skeleton slowly, blurrily, focused on Napstablook.

    "Hurts..."

 _"I know.......... everything, kinda... fell down... Toriel's gonna come soon, though... Hopefully.............."_ they trailed off uncertainly.

    Sans seemed to try breathing in, magic lungs attempting to inflate and failing until he choked. "Tell-... she... Pap..."

 _"...hey....."_ they tried to soothe, but it only made Sans more determined.

    "Sh'has t'... keep 'im... safe," he managed, "safe..." his voice trailed off into painful coughs, and he whined again, hands scrabbling at every surface until he flinched with a sob.

 _"I'll tell her,"_ Napstablook assured him, just in time to hear him shriek again.

    They floated back to Toriel, shaking and uncertain, unable to do anything and unable to listen anymore.

 

* * *

 

        "How is he?" Toriel asked the instant Napstablook's face appeared out of the pile of rubble, inches from her own. She had been quickly and forcefully working away at the obstruction, top-down, trying not to dislodge anything that would cause further crumbling around it and bury her and the baby. It didn't feel like she'd been making any progress.

    They wavered a little, big fat tears rolling down their cheeks, and she frowned in frustration and worry.

    "Napstablook!" She said, sternly.

 _"...it's... it's bad..."_ they whispered. _"You should hurry.... oh no........."_

    "You cannot get him?" She knew the answer, but she had to ask.

 _"He's too big to put in pocketspace..........."_ Blook full-body trembled. _"He... wanted you to take care of Papyrus, I promised I'd tell you..."_

    She sighed, straightened her spine and squared her shoulders, and tried to dull the panic and fear pounding with every beat of her heart. Her magic blazed bright within her chest.

    "Is the rest of the way clear?"

    Nastablook nodded tearfully.

    "How does this cave-in look from the other side?"

    They looked even more upset, if that was possible. _"There's a big rock... I don't think you can move it.......... it's.......... really big..... oh no........"_

    She cursed and ghost flinched. "There are not any secret shortcuts? This is the _only_ way?"

    _"Yeah........ oh nooo.........."_

    She breathed. "Go back to him, be there for him if he is still awake. Let me know if anything changes."

_"What are you......?"_

    Eyes narrowed with determination, a flame burning fiercely in her palm as she cradled the baby in the other, she looked every bit the Queen she once was.

    "I am going to rescue my child."

 

* * *

 

    It would take unbelievable power and determination to concentrate fire magic to melt rock, but Napstablook swore as they headed back through the Ruins that they felt echoes of phantom heat and tingling magic, as if this was her intent. They shivered.

    The pain and terror had apparently exhausted Sans, because they couldn't hear screaming as they neared. They were surprised, then, when Sans twitched a hand as they entered.

    "Hey Blook..." His voice was ragged. Tears leaked out of his sockets and tracked slowly down the sides of his skull. Napstablook floated closer, choosing a spot that seemed within easy sight of Sans so he wouldn't have to strain himself too much.

_"...how... are you doing..............?"_

    Sans' lower jaw trembled, and he breathed in an unsteady shallow breath. "Hurts, Blook...  Please..." He sobbed. "M'k it _stop_."

 

* * *

 

    Papyrus whined at the heat, whined at her distress, and started screaming when she pulled him closer to her chest to keep him safe.

    She focused. _She focused._ Hand shaking, heart hurting, this had to be it, she had to-

    The fallen rocks melted under the heat of her fire.

 

* * *

 

 _"She's coming, I promise...."_ Napstablook whispered as Sans cried.

    The kid's shoulders jerked, and the heavy rock sculpture sunk another small amount, grinding against broken and cracked bones, and he screamed so long and hard that Napstablook wished they had hands to cover their ears.

    "Hur's... P'russs... please..." Sans choked out.

_"Hold on.... okay? .......please......."_

    Sans slowly grew quieter, too quiet. And still.

    And Napstablook wept.


	10. Chapter 10

    Toriel stumbled into the entranceway of the candy room, panic racing through every nerve, and fell to her knees beside the unconscious skeleton. The candy dish had shattered, colored chunks of non-licorice scattered all over the floor. And the pedestal...

    She hauled it off of him one-handed with the ease that one swats a fly, wincing internally at the way Sans' body moved as the heavy stone object was lifted, the bones that had been crushed, and then carefully cradled his head in her hand, searching for any bright spark of life. Her fingers glowed as she tried to find something to heal first.

    It was most likely Papyrus' wailing that brought Sans, struggling and hesitant, back from unconsciousness. She saw the bright pinpricks of color flicker to life in the darkness of his sockets, glowing blue as his magic sustained him where his body had failed. "P-rsss," he said. She shushed him.

    "Go back to sleep," she said softly, trying not to let her tears affect her voice. She needed to stay calm. Her magic, exhausted as it already was, slowly unfurled itself, curling into every crevice of the tiny body next to her. It set to work finding the pain and the broken parts and working to soothe, then fix. She was so absorbed in it that she outright yelped when a small, bony hand caught her wrist in an unfocused, clumsy grab.

    "Ok?" The word was slurred, but she understood enough.

    "Papyrus is fine. He is right here." The baby, nestled against her arm, wiggled violently and unhappily at the sound of his name.

    "T'krr f'hmm?" _Take care of him?_

    She bit her lip. "Of course," she choked, "I promise. And I will take care of you, too, for as long as you want me to. Now _go to sleep_ ," she punctuated that with a wave of magic straight to his own magical core, gently but firmly shutting down all but the most necessary of processes.

    The lights went out in his eyes. Papyrus wailed louder. Acid tears fell to the ground behind her in a sizzling staccato.  And she poured all of herself into fixing this.

 

* * *

 

    Sans awoke, once again, in the warmly-lit house that smelled of cinnamon and butterscotch and home. He reached up to rub his sockets, which were aching for some reason, and had to bite back a yelp.

 _Everything_ was aching.

    Something small burrowed into his side, hitting a sore spot so raw that he could feel everything contracting around it, but he reached a trembling arm and - Papyrus.

    Thank god.

    It all came flooding back in a wave of regret and relief, turning to stone-cold fear as he realized something had happened, _something had happened and he wasn't there to protect Papyrus, he could have been so hurt, he could have been dead_ , the minute Sans left something _happened_.

    He pulled Papyrus up closer to his face, ignoring the raw pain, and looked him in the eyes. "I'm so sorry."  Talking hurt. Papyrus curled his fingers tightly around Sans' thumb. "I promise I'll be there next time. You're never gonna get hurt 'cuz I wasn't there to protect you. Promise."

    Papyrus grinned his eternal skeleton grin. Sans tried not to cry.

 _"....you're okay..."_ Napstablook peeked through the wall, quietly, tears dripping down their face. " _I was so worried... I'm sorry... It's all my fault..._ "

    Sans forced a smile up at the ghost. "Not your fault, Blook." Consoling them never seemed to be that effective, so he dropped it after a few seconds. He was just so _tired_. "I shouldn't have left, proves me right for _putting myself up on a pedestal_ like that."

    A snort from the doorway drew a glance from both of them. Toriel. Napstablook gave a quick goodbye and left, probably home for the day.

    Slowly and carefully, Toriel got down on her knees next to the bed. Sans was starting to get better about her size, and didn't even cower this time as she towered over him. "This might not be _earth-shaking_ news," she began, "but you have a lot of healing to do. Will you stay with me for a while?"

    Even as he started to panic, he reminded himself that Toriel was good. Wasn't a scientist. Couldn't be. And it was only _that_ that made it possible for him to nod as he cast his eyes down.

    Out of the corner of his vision, he thought he saw her eyes shining a little as she smiled at him. "I am very happy to hear that, Sans. Now, what would you like for lunch?"

    Papyrus seemed to recognize the word 'lunch' for what it was - food - and excitedly shouted the only word he really knew, "NO!"

    Sans shrugged, playing with Papyrus' hands.

    "Well, I was just going to make up some pasta in a second. Does that sound good?"

      He nodded.

    He didn't really understand why it was suddenly so hard to talk to her again. It was like all the words inside of him shriveled up. She was _Toriel_ , this shouldn't be so scary... but it was. He couldn't help his feelings, no more than he could stop the nightmares that still slithered around inside his head every night.

    They were in Toriel's house now. She could do anything she wanted to them.

    (She wouldn't, she wouldn't, she _wouldn't, she wouldn't_ )

    He glanced up to see her smile, dimmer, somehow, and tried to force his own grin back at her. He didn't have a choice, really, but maybe it wouldn't be so bad...

    He sat up, one jerky movement, and _yelped_.

 

* * *

 

    The pasta was good. Papyrus liked it a lot. Sans ate it more because he knew he _needed_ food than because he wanted to eat. He wasn't really hungry.

    He chewed as slowly as he could, though, because he could feel something heavy in the air between him and Toriel, a question waiting to be asked. When he put down the fork - hands still clumsy, still learning what a fork was, still holding it all wrong but too embarrassed to listen to Toriel's suggestions - she took a deep breath and asked it. He dropped his gaze so he wouldn't have to look her in the eyes.

    "May I work on healing you a little bit more today?"

    The floor was so interesting.

    "I would need to get very close to your ribs. They were... it was terrible, and they were hurt the most. It would be best if you lay down."

    The floor was _so interesting_.

    "Can you do that for me? I will tell you what I am doing, so there aren't any surprises."

    He drew his shoulders up to his ears, wincing as every sore part of him protested in unison, and nodded just a little.

    Laying back down was the hardest thing ever. Each time a movement pulled at a painful newly-grown bone, it took his breath away. Several times he froze, muffling a groan, unwilling to go down or up because either way would mean more stabbing pain. Toriel made several aborted movements to help, but he nervously flinched away from each one.

    When he was flat on his back again, head propped up by the pillow, he sighed gustily. He looked towards Toriel with his good eye open. "Okay."

    She knelt down slowly and deliberately by the bedside.

    "I am going to put one hand over your ribs," she began. One hand, slowly. He watched it. If she lied, made one wrong move, he'd-

    -do something, maybe. It was a dumb thought. But at least then he'd know she couldn't be trusted.

    The hand hovered, barely an inch away from the bones.

    "To begin, I must analyze your current state, to find what needs healing the most. I do that with my magic. My hand will start to glow, and then _you_ will start to glow." As she finished, her hand began to do exactly that.

      It felt nice. Toriel grinned.

    "Okay, I see that your re-grown bones are not going to fall off, that's good," she began teasingly, "You are definitely feeling sore, though. I will begin by making you feel a little bit better." A wave of peace and warmth rushed from his chest down to his toes. It curled its way up towards his head. It was relaxing.

    "Your body is still adjusting to the new growth, that is why you are so sore. I'm going to be working on that a little today."

    Sans watched her work. She did everything exactly like she said she would. She was honest and kind and he started to feel something ache in his chest. It wasn't a physical pain, it was a lot deeper than that. He realized what it was just as she met his wary eyes with a sparkle in hers.

    He wanted to stay.


	11. Chapter 11

    Sans would never get used to waking up to comfortable warmth, the smell of something cooking in the kitchen, the sound of someone humming, soft light streaming in under the door. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and yawned.

    The soreness from earlier had all but vanished, leaving him simply tired and feeling as weak as a whimsun. He had fallen asleep with her warm magic slowly pulling him under...

    Papyrus' giggles drifted in through the door, and Sans slowly and carefully levered himself up to a sitting position. Black void spun around in his vision for a second, fuzzy and dark and disorienting. Papyrus. What was Papyrus doing? He lifted himself onto unsteady feet and crept towards the door.

    He'd forgotten about the creak, and winced nervously. The humming noise stopped. His magic beat in his chest, oh god oh god-

    Toriel leaned out from around the corner at the end of the hall, smiling. "Hey little one, would you like to join us? How are you feeling?"

    Sans shrugged, shoving his hands in his-

    His hands flew past their usual resting spot and slid off of the sides of the soft sleep-pants he didn't remember putting on. Wha-? He copied the motion a few more times

    It was then that he realized he wasn't wearing his jacket. He suddenly felt a little naked.

    Toriel must have seen the familiar motion and understood, because she started suddenly and put a hand to her forehead. "Oh! I am so sorry, I completely forgot. I washed your jacket and hung it up to dry. It's probably alright for you to wear it now." She turned and disappeared around the corner.

    Then she leaned back into view. "I will just. Get it and be right back. Alright?"

    She waited for Sans to nod before leaving again.

    He shuffled around, trying to redistribute weight on his shaky legs so they wouldn't give out on him. They were tingly.

    She reappeared not a few moments later, bright blue jacket folded delicately in her paw. "I noticed a few tears and stains," she said as she handed it to him. He shook it out and pulled it over his shoulders a little slower than he wanted to - _don't let them know what you're feeling_ , his instincts whispered in the back of his head. _Don't let them know what you like, or they'll take it away._

    "If you want," she continued, "I could try and fix it for you?"

    He zipped it up to his neck and slid his sleeve-covered hands into the pockets.

    "Or you could help me pick a new jacket? Would you like one that fits you better?"

    He scrunched his neck and pushed his cheeks into the fleece of the hood. There.

    He shrugged, then shook his head. He didn't want a new one. He wanted _this_ one. This one was fine. It smelled like flowers now. He could hide in it if he wanted.

    "Alright. If you like it, then that is all that matters." She was smiling. "Would you like to come into the living room, Sans? I just finished making some soup. That should _warm your bones_."

    He grinned despite himself. It was partly because it was funny, and partly because she did such a silly voice when she joked. He liked the silly voice. He shrugged again and started towards the end of the hallway, stumbling only a little on his shaky legs.

    The room was bright and warm and filled with the strong scent of something really good from the kitchen. Papyrus was sitting in a little chair inside of a big one, strapped to it so he wouldn't fall out. It made him tall enough to reach the table. He was slapping the surface in front of him excitedly, and when he saw Sans his face brightened even further.

    "SAAAAAAA!" He burbled, and Sans felt like crying, even though he didn't understand why. It wasn't a bad feeling, really.

    "Hey Pap, have you been good?" He murmured.

    "He has been absolutely wonderful." Toriel's voice coming from behind him, unexpectedly, caused him to jump a little. "I have never seen a more resolutely happy child, especially now that we both know you will be alright." He turned, fast enough to catch a whisper of something flittering across her face before it was gone, hidden by the crinkles of her eyes and her gentle smile. "Would you like to sit down?"

    He took the seat next to Papyrus, pulling his legs up, too, and curling up into it a little bit. They were big chairs, meant for big monsters. He glanced at her to check that he'd done okay.

    Toriel looked happy, so he relaxed a little. "I will be back in just a moment, little one." Then she was gone, past them and off into the kitchen. Sans turned to look at Papyrus, who was now grunting and reaching for him in the usual 'pick me up' gesture, straining against the ribbons keeping him in place on the tiny baby chair.

    Would Toriel be mad if-?

    He clenched his jaw a little. If Toriel got mad, Sans could take it. What Papyrus wanted came first. He slid out of his own chair and around to Papyrus. It took a few seconds to understand how the restraints were tied, but they quickly gave way under his deft fingers. Papyrus practically jumped into his arms, then, and Sans' legs almost buckled right there under the weight. Trembling with unexpected exertion, he made his way determinedly back to his own chair, sitting down with a _thump_ with Papyrus in his lap. Papyrus' tiny arms wrapped around his neck, nestled on his clavicle and buried themselves in the fur of his hood. For someone so small, he held on so tight.

    He wrapped his own arms around Papyrus, cheek knocking against the side of his head, and hugged back. He felt all the tension start to leave him, and in its place came a flood. He was crying, and didn't understand. He was a little bit mad, but he wasn't sure exactly what he was mad at. And he was happy too. And scared. He'd never felt so lost in his life.

    Soft footfalls sounded behind them. He opened his eyes to the sound of Toriel placing a bowl and a utensil in front of them with a gentle tap of ceramic on wood.

    She didn't say anything, just placed another bowl in front of the seat across the table and moved to sit there. Every movement was gentle and deliberate like she was trying not to spook Sans. Carefully, she reached for the utensil and lifted it into her bowl. She brought it up to her lips.

    Papyrus let go of the hug and wiggled around to investigate what was going on, and Sans grabbed for his tiny baby fingers before he could overturn the bowl onto the both of them. He picked up the thing with one free hand, after wiping off his cheeks a little and shaking his sleeve down. Okay. Like a... cup on a stick. He figured out the fork, he could figure this out.

    And if she wasn't talking, that was good. He didn't have to worry about what to say, or focus on trying to understand and react just right. It was easier that way.

    Sometime between feeding Papyrus, and nabbing a few quick mouthfuls himself, he found his head getting heavy and fuzzy again. The warm food made him feel warm too... the arm of the chair was right there - hard, flat wood, but the right angle to be a little bit comfortable if he settled his head on it, and he'd slept in worse places. It seemed so inviting suddenly.

    He curled up around Papyrus and let the world spin a little, pulling him down, until a feeling of fur, someone touching his shoulder, threatened to snap him back. He struggled for a few seconds. A voice from somewhere else hummed until he began to relax again.

    Two arms, slowly lifting them up, still humming, rocking them as she walked...

    Being placed back in bed, the slide of sheets up to his chin, a soft and lingering press on his forehead.

    Then sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

    Sans slept deeper that night than he had in a long time. But, of course, pictures and feelings and terror slowly slid back into their usual resting place in his chest as the night wore on, until.

    Until.

_Hold him down what is he doing no you can't, can't breathe, just aim and fire, this is how you fight yes yes ashes ashes ashes bright BRILLIANT BLUE PAPYRUS IS CRYING I CAN'T_

    Waking was like dragging himself through murky Waterfall swamps all over again, each gulp of air pulling him kicking and screaming and exhausted up into some semblance of clarity, pounding in his chest and ears and fingertips and

    A brush of soft fur on bone. He couldn't breathe. It was so dark.

    There was something holding him, but it felt warm and alive and so soft and it smelled like cinnamon. He was clutching back so hard the joints in his hands ached. Papyrus was crying, but it sounded so _distant_. He buried his face in Toriel's shoulder and tried to catch his breath.

    They sat like that for a while, as the baby crawled himself between them and curled up in Sans' lap to doze off again. Sans slowly got his breath under control, and with it came overwhelming shame and embarrassment.

    He pulled away, wiped off his tears, and tried not to meet Toriel's eyes. He probably woke her up. Stupid, stupid, _stupid_. He should have known he'd mess it up so fast.

    He wasn't expecting her to keep rubbing his back, or say so softly, "Are you alright now, my child?"

      He choked on the burning sensation of tears. He hadn't been alright, ever. But that was on him to deal with, not her. Especially not when she was being so nice.

    So he nodded.

    Her hand lingered on his back for a few seconds longer, and then she pulled it away. He tried not to shiver at the sudden chill, and glanced up out of the corner of his eye to see her smiling at him. There was a hint of sadness to it that made him wonder if he actually got away with that lie.

    "Well," she said, still quiet, "I suppose there's no use going back to sleep now. Wait here,  I will return in a moment."

    Sans rubbed his eyes and watched her get up. The light of distant morning was barely breaking through when she opened the door, and she turned to give him another smile before vanishing.

    He rubbed his hands over his bare arms. The jacket was lying folded up on the end of the bed, and he wanted to slip inside it and curl up more than anything. But it would wake Papyrus, and he didn't want to do that either.

    He had hoped he wouldn't have bad dreams after leaving the Bad Place, but of course they came anyway. His brain just didn't seem to understand that they were safe, now. They came every night, but usually the only one disturbed by the screaming was Papyrus, who would forget about it as quickly as it happened anyway. Papyrus was so quick to forgive.

    Now they were with somebody else, somebody who wouldn't like to be woken up in the middle of the night, who might get mad and decide it wasn't worth it and kick them out.

    (He wondered how it took so long to realize that he liked it here, when he would have had to be dragged kicking and screaming just a few days ago. There was something about this place, something about Toriel, that he just couldn't find it in himself to trust until he was wrapped up in its warm embrace. Now that they were here, _he didn't want to go_.)

    The sound of the creaky door startled him out of his thoughts and he glanced up to see Toriel inching her way into the room, one arm wrapped around the back of a chair from the dinner table, lugging it carefully behind her. Her other arm was lifted high, two mugs carefully balanced in her large paw. She was bracing her tongue against a fang in fierce concentration. Sans put a hand over his mouth so she wouldn't see his amusement.

    When the chair was situated at the bedside, she carefully lowered the paw with the mugs. "Here, Sans," she offered. "Try this." She deposited a mug into his hands and he sniffed it. Cinnamon and apples. It felt warm, kinda like a soup?

    Toriel sat down in the kitchen chair. The small mug in her hands was dwarfed by the sheer size of her, but she didn't seem to mind as she held it up to her face and breathed in the spices.

    "Sometimes I have bad dreams, too. I find warm apple cider helps to chase away my fears. At the very least, I find it relaxing."

    She had bad dreams too? But she was so... why would anyone hurt her? What did she have to be scared of?

    Pondering this, he copied her, breathing it in. The warmth trickled down through his skull and spine, rolling all the way down to his chest. Experimentally, he took a sip.

    The taste of apple-cinnamon crackled in his mouth. He blinked.

    Toriel was watching him from over the lid of her mug, smiling a little. He gripped his own cup tighter. "Do you want to talk about it, Sans?" She asked.

    He didn't. He really didn't. His throat clogged up and he shook his head.

    She took another breath of apple cider warmth again, and then lowered her mug. "Okay. Would you draw something for me, instead?"

    He wanted to shake his head again, but settled for a shrug. He could. Maybe.

    She gave a breathy laugh at that. "That settles it, then. I know what we are going to do today!"

    They sat like that for a while, a quiet calmness settling between them. Toriel had been right, the apple cider did make him feel better. The heat chased away every worry that had settled deep down in his gut and, for the moment at least, he relaxed. Sans had never felt more comfortable just... existing, before.

    The newfound peace lasted for some long moments after finishing the drink, watching the air light up as the day began to find its own sort of wakefulness. It was Toriel who broke the silence again, stretching a bit and rubbing her eyes. "Allllright, I will go prepare us some breakfast. I am sure the little one will be up and hungry any moment now. Can I take your mug?"

    He handed it over with a small awkward smile.  She stood up and nudged the chair back with one foot to give her room to leave.

    And then she hesitated at the door. "I... I am so glad that you're here, Sans," she said. "Both of you. It has been far too long since I have had someone to take care of. You are making an old woman very happy."

    She pressed a hand to her chest, right over her heart, and grinned.

    Then she was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hej! Thank you all for your continuing support, I really appreciate it. :D
> 
> Have a great day!


	13. Chapter 13

    Papyrus slapped a hand down on the floor in front of him and managed to grab a crayon. Sans tactfully didn't mention it was upside down in his brother's hand, and resisted the urge to fix it. He watched Papyrus scribble all over the paper and onto the floor around it.

    Toriel, lying on her stomach next to Papyrus and propping herself up with her elbows, was drawing her own picture as well. She had her eyes narrowed in concentration, mouth open, tongue pressed up against a fang. He watched her out of the corner of his good eye, wondering how good of an artist she was.

    (Not very good at all, he judged. She was drawing a picture of all of them together, Sans and Papyrus and herself and Napstablook, but they all looked lumpy and kind of silly.)

    He tapped his crayon down on the piece of blank paper in front of him.

    Draw something.

    What did he know? Toriel obviously wanted him to draw something from his nightmare. He really didn't want to. But he didn't want to disappoint her, either.

    There was a nice blue crayon near his hand, almost the color of his jacket, and he picked it up and twirled it around in his fingers while he thought.

    He drew a box around the edges of the paper. Another square for a bed - too big, he frowned and ripped the sheet off the pad.

    Okay. Let's try again.

    A square for the sleep room, a square for the bed. Some squiggly skeleton-like lines for Sans. And - he picked up a new crayon - a little red circle with two wide black eye sockets, for a little baby Papyrus wrapped up in the blanket.

    A little square for the food dispenser. The little light on the wall up in the corner. He'd spent all the years of his life in this room, he knew every part of it.

    Leaning back a little in satisfaction, he was suddenly aware of Toriel's eyes on him, and tensed right back up. But she just reached over and tapped a claw next to his drawing. "Looks like you're feeling a little _blue_ , there. I'm glad you had Papyrus to _add a little color_ to your life."

    He felt the edges of his mouth quirk a little.

    "Was this your home before you came here?" She asked, and he shrugged.

    "Could you draw a picture of something from your dream?" He didn't want to think about it, much less draw it. He didn't even bother to shrug. "Or perhaps draw a scientist?"

 _Ohhhh no_.

    He hugged himself at the mere thought, shaking his head so violently he thought it was going to fly off. He could feel the world start to fall around him, panic rising, he didn't want to think about the scientists, he had forced all the thoughts away for so long, he didn't-

    "Alright. That is fine, it's fine. Sans... you're safe here, remember? Nothing can come through that door."

    He was trembling. Why was he trembling? He didn't want to think about the scientists, not right now. Not ever. He didn't want, he didn't want to think-

    "I am one of the strongest monsters in the Underground, Sans. I promise I can keep you both safe. Nothing is getting through that door without my permission, because my wards are practically unbreakable. I _swear_ it, little one."

    Toriel was crouching next to him, paw held out in invitation, and he remembered how it had felt to be held that morning. It was like nothing could hurt him. She was so soft and warm.

    And Sans finally gave in, scrambling so quickly he almost lost his balance, knees thumping on the ground and elbows flying, right into that warm embrace.

    She hugged him back as he clung to her dress, as he buried his face in her fur and let out a shaky breath. She felt so big and so safe. Her arms were wrapped so tightly around him and he just wanted to get lost in this. It felt like he could just let go.

    She settled her cheek against the top of his head and sighed. He could hear it resonate in her chest.

    "I am sorry, child," she said, and the rumble felt so nice as she spoke. "I did not mean to upset you. I know that you are burdened by so much already. The last thing I want to do is add to your troubles. But... sometimes, the best way to heal is to share the load. Would you at least... consider talking to me about what you have been through? The more I know, the more I can keep the two of you safe. And the better I will be able to take care of you."

    Sans curled up smaller in her arms, cringing, clinging tighter. She made sense.

    He gritted his teeth. The fear stuck to his throat, but he managed to choke out a small, pained, "yeah."

    She rubbed his back again, the motion so calm and soothing that he couldn't help but relax a little in her embrace. Her hands were just so _warm_.

    "It does not have to be now, but... please think about it, Sans."

    If it was going to happen anyway, he wanted to get it over with. "Now. I.... yeah."

    Papyrus was tired of not having any attention and had begun to tug indignantly at the back of Toriel's dress. She rubbed the top of Sans' head, hesitantly, as if ruffling some sort of hair. "Only if you are certain," she said softly. She leaned out of the embrace enough to scoop up the baby and pull him into her lap as well.

    "...yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for some lab flashback stuff?


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, disclaimer: I know next to nothing about science in any way, shape or form. :/  
> That being said, a big inspiration for the fic, and specifically this part of it, is [Handplates](http://zarla-s.tumblr.com/tagged/handplates) by Zarla-S.
> 
> Also, sorry about the OCs. They're only there to move the story along.

    The earliest thing Sans could remember was pain. He remembered screaming, something dripping from his eyesockets, and trying to move until everything slurred away.

    And a face staring back at him.

    The time before Papyrus was born was nothing special, really. As long as he did what he was told, he would only be hurt during the normal stuff. When he was bad... well. Um. (He knew better than to be bad. He learned fast, that was the one thing he could be proud of).

    And nothing ever changed, day by day, injections and operations and FIGHTs and evaluations and puzzles and... nothing really mattered. He would wake up the next day and do it all again. It was better to just not think. There was no reason for him to be aware at all, as long as he followed instructions, so most of the time he really wasn't.

    He had very little Hope. Because he had nothing to hope for. This was his whole world.

 

* * *

 

    He knew the names of two of them, but the third...

    They called him 'Doctor' or 'The Doctor', usually. And all of them were scientists, but S1 knew that only the Doctor was The Scientist.

    Subject-S1 learned a lot, just by observing.

    They all were good at something different, but they all were working together on some stuff. Important stuff. And it seemed like S1 was mostly the responsibility of The Scientist.

    He'd been there from the moment S1 was born, from what S1 could remember.

    They had been taking a lot of samples lately, chipping off pieces of bones and regrowing the missing parts hastily.  S1 was used to it by now, but the overwhelming frequency of it was wearing on him. And he was constantly exhausted because of the drain on his magic, both from that and from the tube they had coming out of his bad eye, connected right to his core and constantly pulling.

    They were preparing for something, but they always spoke about it with such big words, and he couldn't ask them about it because he couldn't let them know he understood any English.

    He was supposed to only speak Hands, after all.

    The scientists were really energized today, though. The Scientist was never very excitable, but even he was smiling a little as he pulled the tube out of S1's eye. The invasive, slithery feeling vanished, and S1 restrained himself from sighing in relief. He held out his arm to be scanned and logged, and The Scientist wrote some notes. S1 folded his hands in his lap and waited.

 **"We will finish making a new subject today,"** The Scientist informed him. **"You will be in charge of its care. It is designated Subject-P2."**

    Subject-S1 nodded. **"I understand."**

    That was all. He was led back to the sleep room and the door was locked, and he waited.

    He stared at the blank grey walls, the food dispenser, the light on the wall. The bare bed. The room was tiny enough for one Subject, he couldn't imagine another one.

    And he wondered. What would P2 be like? He wrung his hands as he thought. Maybe they'd be mean. Maybe they'd be nice. Maybe... maybe they wouldn't eat as much, and would give him some of their food. Or would have more pain tolerance, so they'd be the ones doing the harder tests. Or maybe they'd even be a better Subject, overall, and S1 would get to stay in the room all the time.

    He started constructing the possibilities in his head. Tall? Short? Strong, at least, so when S1 got tired, 'cause he was always tired, P2 could carry him around.               

    Would P2 like him, though?

    He was considering this when the door slid open again. The light was different - the hallways of the Bad Place went through light cycles to simulate some sort of schedule - so several hours must have passed at least. And in the doorway stood the Roslyn Scientist, framed by the glow from behind her.

    In her feathered red arms was something tiny wrapped up in a brown cloth. It was making lots of noise and moving a lot, and she seemed very awkward as she bent down and held it out to him. The instant S1 had a grip on it, she hastily backed off and stood by the door.

    S1 stared at the thing in his arms.

    It was small, that was his first thought. So small. He would be the one doing the carrying, it seemed. Tiny fingers, tiny, round skull that seemed too big for its body. Big eyes.

    It was yelling, at first, but as their eyes met, it started hiccuping and grew quiet. One tiny fist curled up and rested on one of S1's ribs. Suddenly he was afraid to breathe, just in case he disturbed it. Him. P2.

    Yeah.

    Okay.

    Once she saw he was settled, the Roslyn Scientist pulled out a sheet of paper from her pocket and started reading. **"Subj- Subject-P2 will require liquid nutri- nutriment once every... two sub-cycles,"** she began. She wasn't fluent in Hands. Her pronunciation and hand shapes were awful.

**"Keep its noi- noise to a minimum through... prov. providing attention as needed."**

    S1 ran a finger over the tiny lines and strange spots on P2's skull. They glowed a soft orange, what an odd color.

**"Your testing schedule will be redu... reduced until P2 is prepared to participate. Injections will pro- proceed as normal."**

    P2 was asleep. That was fast.

    Scientist Roslyn folded the paper back up and slipped it into her pocket. She bit her lip. **"Need-you-anything?"** she asked hesitantly.

    S1 shook his head.

**"Okay. Hold-head."**

    S1 nodded. She made her exit, leaving the two Subjects in the room alone. S1 sat down, pulling his knees up around P2 and watching the tiny chest moving up and down, faint fluttery orange magic curled just underneath the ribs.

    P2 was so tiny. Would he even survive? Could he?

    S1 didn't sleep. He watched. If something happened to P2, he was going to get in a lot of trouble.

    The tiny little Subject slept on for a while, but then the wall light went on and the sound of food sliding down the dispenser jolted him awake. He cried.

    S1 picked him up, careful to hold the head, and reached over. A bottle. The liquid food, he supposed. He brought it up to P2's mouth and watched him try to suck on it.

    Was S1 ever this small?

 

* * *

 

    P2 had his first injection the next day. S1 was rubbing the sleep from his sockets, ears ringing from the wailing that had kept him awake all night. Every couple of hours, like clockwork, P2 demanded food.

    And S1 had to provide. He hated it already.

    The door slid open, Scientist Roslyn on the other side. She smiled weakly. **"Come-you."**

    S1 nodded, standing up unsteadily while holding the unfamiliar weight, and walked towards the door. But the movement startled P2 awake, and the tiny Subject startled in his arms and began wailing again.

    As he and Scientist Roslyn made their way to the other side of the lab, S1 made a noise, something soft to get P2's attention. He put his free index finger into the smaller Subject's palm, not expecting the tiny fist closing over his finger. Surprised, he fought the instinct to wrench himself free for fear of P2 getting angry and louder. In a few moments, P2's screaming began to taper off into whimpers.

    S1 sat down on his usual seat and waited, not bothering to look up. He played with his finger in P2's hand, wiggling it gently back and forth. When would P2 be old enough to talk?

 **"Subject-S1. Standard procedures."** The Scientist was frowning. S1 startled, instinctively pulling his finger out of P2's grip in a hurry to comply. P2 began to cry again. S1 held out his arm for the scanning and injections. He hissed at the feeling of liquid fire running through his bones.

 **"Quiet him,"** The Scientist ordered after scanning the barcode for the second time. S1 touched P2's tiny palm, again, and P2 instinctively grasped it again. As before, the wails tapered off.

    His hand was so warm. And so tiny. And he looked up at S1 like he trusted him completely. S1 felt a strange warmth in his chest that he couldn't attribute to the injection.

 **"Hold his arm out,"** The Scientist demanded. S1 lifted his finger up so P2's arm was exposed. As soon as the needle penetrated the bone, the baby screamed and flailed around, and S1 had to wrap his other fingers around the tiny wrist to keep P2 from pulling his arm away.

 _I know,_ he wanted to say. _I know it hurts, but it'll be over in a few minutes. And it'll all stop in a few hours and you'll be fine._ But he clenched his jaw.

    And later, back in the room, he rubbed along P2's limbs as best he could to banish the soreness. The tiny Subject cried all night until he tired himself out.

_I know. I'm sorry._

 

* * *

 

    P2 didn't understand, and that was the worst part. S1 understood that this was how the world worked. All P2 knew was crying and making funny noises and sleeping. Everything seemed to confuse him and make him sad. P2 did nothing to deserve this except being made.

    And it didn't feel fair.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all SO much for your support!  
> Again, I know nothing about science. Again, this section is vaguely inspired by [Handplates](http://zarla-s.tumblr.com/tagged/handplates) by Zarla-S.

      Time passed as it always did, though S1 had no means of truly measuring it. It was nice, for once, not to be hurt so much, but he couldn't really count time passing by fading soreness or burning anymore. He hadn't even been punished in a while for making a mistake (not that he'd been taken out of the sleep room long enough to break something or mess something up or get in trouble). Sometimes, though, he'd still get phantom pains in his chest from stuff they used to do to his ribcage, or arms, or legs. He still woke up in a cold sweat with the feeling of phantom bones breaking, strange things being rewired, or new, disorienting sensations.

    But most of that was Before, honestly. Before P2. S1 had a _great_ life now.

    Sometimes, Scientist Roslyn and Scientist Tavius would stay in the lab after hours and clean up, then sit around and talk. One particular night, Subject-S1 could hear muffled noises through the door while P2 slept. They were drinking something, and their voices began to slur a little. They got loud enough to be clearly heard as the night went on, but most of what they talked about was so far beyond S1's scope of understanding that he tuned it out. Until...

    "You wanna know what I've been callin' these kids in my head for the past month?" Roslyn slapped a hand on their door, and S1 had to muffle a flinch to keep from waking P2.

    "What the hell are you talking about, Rozzy?" That was Tavius.

    "Well, you know how the Doctor's real name is-" Tavius coughed, then, and S1 couldn't hear "-an' you know how they're a bit related, kinda, not really?"

    "Uh huh."

    "Well, since he's named after a font, they should be too. P an' S, right? Well, I was lookin' over the stuff we found for teaching S1 English if the Good Ol' Doctor ever decides it's time, and. I learned that, according to the surface world, the fonts _Comic Sans and Papyrus_ are two of the most cliché fonts. Isn't that hilarious?"

    Silence from Tavius.

    S1 held his breath, afraid to make any noise at all.

    "So I call S1 'Sans'. And it's- his brother, P2, is 'Papyrus'. I know, big name for a little squirt. But I thought it was cute."

    S1 mouthed the names to himself.

    Tavius sounded angry. "Rozzy, you _know_ that's against the rules. He would absolutely  _kill you_ if he found out."

    She made a noise like _psssh_. Something sloshed to the floor. "I haven't said anything. They don't know. It's just. In my head. Isn't it cute?"

    "They're not 'cute', Rozzy, they're _science experiments_. They're not even real monsters. You can't grow attached, they're going to be terminated and _dissected_ one day."

    Silence. Then, Roslyn, tentatively: "You won't tell him, right? But... sometimes, I wonder. I know this is the best opportunity of our lives, and we're workin' towards a really great goal, but... are we really doin' the right thing?"

    Tavius sighed. The shadows beyond the door shifted. "Let's go home. It's getting late."

    S1 held his breath until the main lab door hissed shut behind them. Then he shifted P2 in his arms, the smaller Subject waking with a start and loudly proclaiming his indignation. "Hey, hey, just. Calm down, okay? It's almost food time."

    He held P2 close, and wiggled a little back and forth. Sometimes P2 found it soothing.

    "It's okay, Pa... _Papyrus_."

    The whimpers trailed off.

    He whispered to himself, tasting it on his tongue, "I'm Sans. I'm Sans. My name is Sans. I'm Sans. Nice to meet you, I'm Sans!"

    It felt really good.

    "I'm Sans, and this is my brother, Papyrus."

 

* * *

 

    Sans had lots of secrets, so one more was barely a drop in the ocean. They had Secret Names now, and he had complete certainty he'd be punished if The Scientist ever found out, but. In the private of the sleep room, Papyrus was starting to learn that when Sans said _Papyrus_ , he was talking about him. Sans was trying to teach him a lot of things. 

    Papyrus learned slowly. He stopped crying so much, eventually, but stayed asleep a lot after that and seemed a little bit too quiet most of the time.

    Sans got tired of the silence. It was unexpected, honestly, he thought he'd never have a moment's peace again. But the longer Papyrus went on without making noises, the more worried Sans got. They were all each other had. And Papyrus' natural state seemed to be 'loud'. Quietness felt abnormal.

    So Sans started doing whatever he could to get a reaction out of Papyrus. He started talking a lot, rambling on about anything and everything in Hands and English until Papyrus started imitating his sounds. He would invent his own little puzzles that were easy enough for Pap to find amusing, like hiding and un-hiding his face.

    And then one day, Papyrus made a really funny noise, right out of the blue. It was sharp and sudden and loud.

    Sans immediately stiffened, even though it was long after lab hours and he had certainly heard everyone leave already. He leaned over, several fingers over his mouth to demonstrate his meaning, and went, _"shhhhhhhh..."_

    The little Subject must have thought he was hilarious, because he made the loud noises again. It took Sans a bit to place the right word. He didn't know it in English. **Laughter.**

    He made a face, then, with his fingers to help, just to watch and hear the strange hiccuppy sounds again. It had been a long time since he'd felt this warm inside. Warm...

    Happy.

    He may have been just an experiment, dumb and worthless beyond his value in breaking the Barrier (whatever that was), but Papyrus liked him.

    He was coming to find that that was all that really mattered.

 

* * *

 

    Papyrus didn't like anyone else. He cried with anyone else but Sans. As the baby got a little older, Sans started to realize that no one else knew how to take care of Papyrus, honestly.

    (It made him wonder how _he_ was raised, because none of these dumb scientists knew the first thing about babies.)

    They pulled things the wrong way, forgot to hold his head, didn't understand the difference between pain-cries and hunger-cries... kept leaving him _alone_ , which was really bad when Papyrus started to learn how to roll around.

    Stupid, all of them.

    He'd never really felt one way or the other about stuff before. He always pushed lingering resentment down and smothered it. It wouldn't change anything.

    But now...

    Now he couldn't afford not to care anymore.

    Papyrus was having a Crying Day one day when Scientist Roslyn opened up the door to the sleep room and adjusted her glasses. She had on the thick stuff - protective gear, Sans thought.

    Oh no.

 **"Subject-S1,"** she said and signed, **"leave Subject-P2. Come."**

    Sans put Papyrus on the floor, trying to ignore the sound of wailing, and straightened his shoulders. He knew it was inevitable, but he hadn't realized it was going to be this soon. He reached for the place inside that held his magic and felt it crackle within his chest.

    Time to play.

    Standing up on shaky legs, he followed Roslyn out the door and down the brightly-lit hall. He mentally rehearsed the steps and played with his wristband distractedly. Dodge. Wait for an opening. Strike. Dodge. Was Papyrus going to be all right alone?

    He felt his heart sink as they stopped in front of the heavy blue door, and Roslyn began struggling to push it open. It was heavy and her bones were too light and it took her a few tries to heave it wide enough to scuttle through, Sans at her heels.

    The room they entered was lit so brightly that Sans felt the urge to rub his sockets. Slowly, the white walls and protective glass swam into view, and a small cage with some tiny squirming creatures inside was sitting opposite of his usual standing place. That was... better than other possibilities, he supposed. He also noted, unhappily, that The Scientist was already there behind the glass and ready with some sort of notepad.

 **"Subject-S1, get in position,"** he ordered.

    Sans breathed a big breath in and found the little taped X on the ground. He settled there, nerves buzzing, magic fizzling, anticipatory.

**"Initiate blasters."**

    [ITEM - BLASTER1 - USE] [ITEM - BLASTER2 - USE] Sans pulled them carefully out of his strange otherspace. He had grasped for two, and the energy needed for just those was enough to feel like a punch to the gut. They shimmered into existence next to his shoulders. He could feel them like extensions of his self, and he inwardly cringed at the feeling of _ferocitysharpteethPOWER_. He hated them. He hated this.

**"Initiate battle."**

    Sans reached out with his magic, finding the lifelight pulsing in one of the rats. Their SOUL floated upwards, miniscule and purple and vibrating intensely. His own SOUL fluttered in response. He looked down to see the usual menu options flicker on and the world around them faded.

    He hovered his fingers over the FIGHT button.

    It felt like touching very heavy air, and he looked away at the last second so he wouldn't see-

    Bright light zapped past the corners of his vision, hot and painfully intense. When it faded, he dared to look again and watched with a sick fascination as the rat's SOUL shuddered in shock and broke into a million pieces.

    The physical rat in the cage stopped squirming and fell over dead.

 **"Subject-S1, initiate a third blaster."** The Scientist was scribbling something in his notepad.

    Sans wondered what Papyrus was doing right now.

    [ITEM - BLASTER3 - USE]

    The second rat went down just as quickly.

    [ITEM - BLASTER4 - USE]

    He wanted to stop.

    [ITEM - BLASTER5 - USE]

    The drain was too much, and the world tilted a little around him.

 **"Subject-S1, store the blasters."** He complied, relieved.

 **"Status report."** Sans described everything in as much detail as he could - exhaustion, the strange darkness encroaching on the edges of his vision, a slight twinge in his left arm. The Scientist's pen scritched across the notepad.

    "If it can only make five before magical exhaustion hits..." the Tavius Scientist muttered, and Roslyn bumped Tavius' shoulder with her own.

    "On the upside, the readin's are great. I'm pretty sure, now, that we're gettin' closer to the right calibration."

    Sans pretended he wasn't listening, staring at his feet.

    "Fantastic," Tavius said, but Sans was pretty sure that was sarcasm.

 **"Roslyn, take Subject-S1 back to its room please,"** The Scientist said-signed.

    "Sure, Doc," Roslyn replied easily in English while ignoring the frustrated eyeroll sent her way. Instead, she met Sans' gaze. He carefully schooled his expression. He didn't want her to read anything in his face.

    Back in the sleep room, he wrapped his arms tight around Papyrus and stared stonily at the wall. Whatever was happening, they were getting closer. He was starting to understand that it wouldn't mean good things for the two Subjects if they did, in fact, break the Barrier.

    He thought about the rats. They were just as dumb as Pap, like little babies, and couldn't have ever done anything mean enough to deserve what happened to them. And Sans killed them all. It was so quick and easy.

    Did that make Sans bad, or the Scientist?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For content warning, please see the endnote.

    Time passed, again. All the scientists were getting more and more frustrated with something. Sans could tell it was his fault. They were starting to do stuff with Papyrus more and more. Sans didn't like it at all, but he couldn't exactly stop them. The most worrying thing was that they stopped fixing Sans. Healing him didn't seem to be their priority anymore. Somehow, something about it was feeling like an ending.

     _It_ began as a day almost like any other, or at least like every other in Sans' uneventful life. The Scientist was poking and prodding, detaching limbs and fingers and measuring. Sans used to scream under the immense pain when someone detached a part of his body, but he'd gotten used to it by now and knew to grit his teeth for the initial jolt.

    He was lying down on the examination bed in the corner, idly counting in English in his head. Anything to distract himself from the uncomfortable feeling of detachment and the twisting strain of distance. Crying would do nothing but make The Scientist mad, so. His jaw ached from all the tension in his body.

    The Scientist was checking something in Sans' arm joints, muttering and signing to himself, sounding dissatisfied as he adjusted the settings on the instrument on the desk.

    Suddenly something in the air changed. The door slammed open. Sans flinched and couldn't stop a finger in the arm under the lens from twitching, too, causing the Scientist to curse and look up long enough to identify the disturbance.

    It was a shaking and out-of-breath Roslyn.

    "Asgore," she managed to pant out between gulps of air, "stoppin' by. Wants to see," huff, "wants to see the projects."

    The Scientist, as pale as he already was, seemed to grow paler.

**"What did you do?"** He demanded.

    Roslyn cringed. The Scientist stood up in one fluid movement and strode towards her, fists clenched, shoulders tight.

     **"What. Did. You. Do?"** He growled again, digging angry fingers into the lapels of her coat and dragging her face closer to his.

    "I... Tavius and I got drunk the other night downtown, and we were just talkin', and Tavius said somethin' about gettin' closer to breakin' the barrier, and I guess word got around..." she babbled.

    The Scientist shoved her against the doorframe with a thud that made Sans twitch again. Roslyn winced. Her fingers agitatedly curled against the thin piece of wood behind her. **"If he has any inkling of what we have been doing, he will not stop until he uncovers the truth! You have never seen him when young creatures are involved! He will move mountains!"**

    Then he let go and stepped away.

**"Conceal everything that could reveal the existence of Subjects S1 and P2.  Bring them to the storage level immediately and keep them quiet,"** he demanded. **"If Tavius shows up for work today, tell him that his last task will be to aid you in this. Then he had better hope I never see his face again. I do not allow such ineptitude in my lab."**

    Roslyn stuttered.

    The Scientist backtracked to the desk to grab his coat. **"I will hold off our dear curious king long enough to give you time to fix this mistake, Roslyn."**

    She was hugging herself and Sans could see tears forming in her eyes. **"Yes sir."**

    The Scientist paused long enough to shrug the coat on and then strode quickly out the door, presumably to talk to... Asgore. Where had Sans heard that name before?

    His eyes lingered on the last glimpse he had had of the Scientist, so the touch of Roslyn's feathered fingers on his shoulder startled him. She was holding his detached arm and seemed to be trying to reconnect it. The monitor-wristband on the loose arm rattled. There were still tears in her eyes.

    He grabbed the humerus from her as politely as possible and shoved it into the socket at the right angle, not minding the burn, waiting for the click and relief. Then he looked up at her questioningly.

**"Come,"** she said-signed, holding out her hand.

    He looked at it.

    She paused for a second, realizing he didn't understand what she was doing, and then reached down and took his hand gently in her own.

**"We get you out,"** she said one-handed.

    Wait... what?

    She set a quick pace and Sans had to run if he didn't want to get dragged behind as they made their way down the hallway. She punched in the door code and the sleep room door slid open. Jumping inside, he grabbed Papyrus in a one-armed hold because she still hadn't let go of the other hand and then they were out again.

    Everything was moving so fast.

    She led them down a short side hallway that Sans had never been allowed to go down before, and then into a small office. It smelled like Roslyn, feathers and sweet and a little bit warm. There was a small computer on the desk and several things with bright colors hanging on the wall. She pulled something off of the back of the chair and held it out.

**"I... have. For P2."** She was getting better at Hands, but. Something about the situation screamed urgency, even if Sans didn't quite understand. The thing in her hands was a red blanket, presumably for Papyrus. And then she reached inside the cabinet by the door and pulled out her jacket.

**"For you,"** she offered. "I know it's not much and it's way too big, but..." She shrugged and held it out. **"Will be cold."**

    He took it, put Papyrus down for a moment on the chair at the desk, and carefully shrugged it on. It had been a long time since he'd had anything new to wear at all, really, so clothes were a challenge sometimes. The fuzzy hood slid up around the back of his head, thick and comfy enough to bury his cheeks in it. The sleeves were too long for his arms and they drooped off of his hands. The body part was baggy enough that it swished as he moved.

    She placed Papyrus back in Sans' arms. **"Come. Fast."**

    " _What the hell_ , Rozzy?!"

    Sans jumped. Tavius was standing in the doorway looking mad.

    Roslyn puffed up her chest. "I'm gettin' these kids out of here. As far away from here as I can manage, and they're never comin' back. Doc wants 'em out of sight, he won't notice they're gone for at least as long as Fluffybuns decides to stretch out the visit. An' you know he'll want tea. C'mon, Tav. This is the best opportunity we've got for this. I'd bring 'em right to Asgore, but monsterkind would lose our best scientist if I did that. An' I'm sure no one here wants the whole Underground to know what we've done. It's better this way."

    Tavius growled.

    Roslyn huffed. "You _know_ it's not right, Tav. You _know_ what's gonna go on tomorrow. Then he's gonna terminate Sa... S1. I won't let that happen. My conscience would kill me."

    Tavius hesitated, then made to push the button to close the door and stop them, but-

    Sans didn't understand, but he could figure out stuff from context. Scientist Roslyn was trying to get them out. She was trying to save them. Something bad was going to happen to him. Papyrus was crying, limbs flailing, they needed out, they- 

_"Please."_

    Both of the scientists turned to stare at the small Subject. Sans felt so tiny and taken apart under the scrutiny. He wanted to squirm. "Please, please get us out. Please save us. I don't... I don't want to die." And that in itself was a spur-of-the-moment realization, but _Papyrus needed him,_ so.

    "You can speak English...?" Roslyn breathed.

    Tavius' whole face had gone slack, eyes wide in shock.

    Sans didn't care anymore. "Papyrus doesn't deserve this, he doesn't. He didn't _do anything wrong_!" By the end of it, Sans was yelling as loud as he dared.

    Tavius slowly backed away from the doorway. "Shit. The Doctor's really gonna kill us, Roz. He's really gonna do it this time. I swear."

    "Well, fuckin' _let_ him," Roslyn spit back. Then she turned awkwardly to Sans. "Don't, uh, don't say that. That's a bad word."

    He nodded.

    "Okay, kid. You gotta listen to me now. You're gonna be doin' a lot of runnin'. If anything happens, just go fast as you can, far as you can. We're in the Capital right now, and Hotland is just up main street a ways. After Hotland is Waterfall. If we get separated, just keep goin', okay kid?"

    He understood approximately none of that, but nodded vigorously anyway.

    "As for you," Roslyn glared at Tavius, "He fired you anyway. He said last job for you would be cleanin' the place up so Asgore can't figure out our deep dark secrets and shit." She turned to Sans and opened her mouth, but.

    "Bad word. Got it."

    "Right." She made a face like she was uncomfortable. Sans wondered if his English was that bad, or if it was just weird that he could speak it at all.

    Tavius backed off as they passed by, watching them with a hard stare.

    There was a big door at the end of the hallway. Sans had seen it before, many times, and had some guesses as to where it lead, but... he'd never gotten so close before.

    Roslyn pressed a special code into the keypad and whirring noises filled the air. The door began to open, slowly, and Sans got his first impression of Outside.

    ...a white hallway. Which wasn't bad, just. It was exactly like the walls Sans had been living within this whole time. He was expecting mind-blowing colors and sounds, motion and light and. Yeah. (He tried not to feel disappointed).

    "Doc's probably distractin' Asgore with some of our side projects right now," Roslyn said, "but most of those are on the other side of the buildin'. So we should be in the clear." She sounded so nervous.

    He looked forward and pulled Papyrus tighter to him. Gotta focus. He had to run to keep up with her long strides, and even so, ended up trotting along at her heels instead of at her side. When she stopped suddenly, he almost got her arm smashed against his face. Good thing he was good at dodging. He looked up to see her typing a code into a door.

    "This is it," she said. She sucked in a breath and leaned her shoulder up against the door. "Quiet," she whispered.

    Papyrus was chewing on the jacket, so his mouth was occupied. Sans breathed a sigh of relief and tried to control the buzz of excitement that was making his arms shake a little. It had been so long since he'd dared to do anything against the rules.

    She pried the door open slowly. The sound of voices trickled in through the crack. Sans recognized The Scientist, as well as another, deeper voice. Just hearing the voice of someone new made him shiver a little bit with an unfamiliar thrill. He was more scared than he wanted to admit.

    "Okay," Roslyn said, barely a breath, "Just get ready to head towards the front door, and when I say go, you go. Understand?"

    He nodded.

    Her eyes tracked around the empty hallway as she listened in to the conversation. Sans was too stressed out to focus. Suddenly, the voices began to fade, and Sans heard the distant sound of something being shut. Then, silence.

    "Go!" Roslyn hissed. Sans felt the ground thumping under his feet. His magic pounded in his chest. The room was so big and there was the biggest door he'd ever seen in his life, was that where they were going, and Roslyn was beside him and then in front of him and

    The glass swished open and then Sans felt a rush of air and they were outside and

    She pulled him around a corner and into a little dead-end place, he almost fell over before he managed to find balance again and

    He skidded to a stop, so many colors, so much space, this was all he had expected and _absolutely nothing like he'd expected_

    And the blaring noise, oh god, it burned in his ears

    "Shit, shitshitshit your monitor, that fucking alarm, I forgot, wait a sec," Roslyn said. She wrestled with something in her pocket, eyes wild, hands shaking, and pulled out a little thing that flipped out into a knife. Sans flinched instinctively and then felt bad because she'd helped them so much already. Papyrus was wailing now, fisted hands banging against every bit of Sans that he could reach, and Roslyn was leaning toward them like-

    She couldn't touch Papyrus, no-

    She hooked a finger underneath his wristband and brought the knife closer and okay, that's what she was doing. He felt it pull as she started to cut through, then the thing snapped off, and she was halfway through the first sounds of the word _RUN_ when

**"Roslyn."** The Scientist growled from behind her, out-of-breath and angry. _**"What are you doing."**_

    Sans cringed, but not as much as Roslyn. She started trembling, "I- I'm sorry, I-"

    The Scientist reached out to do something, to hit her maybe, or grab Sans, or something, and Sans could never quite recall with clarity what happened because he remembered only the feeling of utter terror, a flash of blue, needing to get rid of the pounding weight in his chest and he slammed his arm out to the side and he saw The Scientist glowing blue for a second and hitting the wall face first and there was a cracking noise and it was so loud and then he wasn't moving and Roslyn was screaming and then

    and then

    and then he was out, running, and Sans didn't understand and he was so scared, oh god oh god what did he just do

    follow the main road, she had said

    did he just kill the scientist

    run

    someone was gonna come after them

    r u n

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: Mention of death of character. Ish. Also, warning for run-on sentences and potential readability issues, which are totally on purpose for dramatic effect and stuff I guess.
> 
> Now everything's come full circle and we can get back to the stuff with Toriel! Hooray!
> 
> oh my GOD you will not believe how much I struggled with this chapter. Holy crap. Glad that's over. I will never be happy with it, so I gave up trying and just let it go.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now we're back to the present, everything's mostly come full-circle. :D

    "...and I ran for a really long time, and I fell two... no, three times, and then Papyrus wouldn't eat, and then we ended up in the snow," Sans finished.

    For a child, he was not a bad storyteller, at least until he began to tire. Toriel's knees were aching from so long pressed against the hard wood floor, and Papyrus had fallen asleep cradled up against Sans' chest, tiny fist wrapped around the tip of a rib poking out from the halfway-undone zipper of Sans' jacket. (Sans' face had twitched oddly when Papyrus first reached for the rib, like holding back a sneeze, but didn't protest, so Toriel assumed it must not be a painful sensation).

    There were many things left unanswered that she wanted to poke and prod at, such as the Scientist. Every mention of him caused apprehension to worm its way across Sans' face. Who was he? Sans was fairly sure he had killed the wretched monster, but Toriel knew many monsters that were certainly hardy enough to survive a simple toss against a wall. Even so, she remembered when Sans had used the same move on her, and the damage that she had received to her SOUL had been quite alarming, actually.

    It was that, then, that allowed her to excuse herself from breaking her own resolutions, instead of storming up to find the monster who dared to hurt children this way. Why force herself to confront her own demons face-to-face when, most likely, it would be pointless? The Scientist, whoever he might have been, had passed on. (She had to believe it). 

    There were other parts of the story, too, that she needed time to process. It was worse than she could have ever imagined. Monster SOULS were made of love, hope, and compassion - to have done such horrible things to another monster must have taken quite a bit of emotional distance, perhaps even LOVE.

    Sans could not meet her eyes. He was staring down at Papyrus instead. Toriel didn't blame him one bit. He had just admitted to killing someone, and an authority figure at that. She couldn't even imagine being in his shoes.

    "I am sorry," she said quietly. "That must have been so hard for you. Thank you for telling me. I promise, as long as you are in my care, you will never be treated like that again." What else could she even say in the face of a story like that?

    He nodded and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

    Toriel sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. "Well, Sans, I think drawing time is over. Would you help me clean up, please?"

    He hefted Papyrus, still asleep, onto his shoulder and reached over to start grabbing crayons from the floor. She pretended not to notice all the colorful wax markings over the nice wood paneling. Papyrus had fun, that was all that mattered. She could fix it later.

    Together, they collected all the broken crayons and runaway pieces of scrap paper and organized them neatly back in the drawer. He was vibrating a little with energy, as if some burden had been lifted and now he didn't know what to do with his own body anymore, unfamiliar now without secrets pulling heavily on his limbs. He repeatedly shifted weight from foot to foot.

    "Why do I not make us something for lunch? While I am cooking, you can do whatever you would like. I know there is a ball in the toy chest, perhaps you would like to bounce it around for a while? Do not let Papyrus sleep too much, though, or he might have trouble sleeping tonight."

    "Yeah," he said. "I'll try."

    He reluctantly pulled away and started down the hallway, then stopped. He looked over his shoulder. "Toriel?"

    "Yes?" She asked.

    He jammed his toe against the baseboard. "Thanks."

    Despite the new worries Sans had just set on her plate, she had never felt this happy in a long, long time. "Of course, Sans."

    He vanished into the children's room and shut the door as he went. She heard a rhythmic thudding noise a few moments later, so he must have found the ball.

    In the kitchen, she started pulling out ingredients. She worked almost mindlessly. She had a lot to think about, and it was hard to know where to start. It explained so much, honestly. Now she had at least some idea of potential pitfalls and could guess at how to avoid them - no more stumbling about in the dark without a map.

    She remembered the barcodes on the children's arms. She wondered if there was a way to fix that.

    Then she was reminded of Sans' nightmare. She hoped that getting it off his chest a little bit might help him sleep through the night.

    Then she-

    Something tickled her nose and made her cough. Her eyes watered. The smoke from the casserole dish in her hands wafted up, black and thick. She had unintentionally burned it.

    Sighing, she scraped the brown sludge into the trash. Perhaps something simpler would be better for now. Since she was rather distracted. She didn't want to cause any worse disasters.

    ....those poor children...

    Ten minutes later, she was knocking on the door. "Sans?"

    She waited. It took him almost a whole minute to come to the door and inch it open enough to peek out.

    "Yeah?"

    "Lunch is ready, if you two want to come and have some?"

    Sans nodded and went to grab Papyrus. Which reminded her, she had better start childproofing the house again...

    So much to process today. Toriel had to admit, she was a bit overwhelmed.

    He came out with Papyrus in tow, the latter giggling and struggling to climb up to Sans' shoulders, tiny fists pulling uselessly on the too-big jacket. Sans, to his credit, had immense patience with his little brother and simply let him do as he wished, being careful not to let him fall. By the time Sans had followed Toriel back to the dinner table, Papyrus was settled comfortably on Sans' shoulders with his tiny arms wrapped around Sans' forehead.

    It was absolutely adorable.

    "Do you want me to hold him?" She asked, just to make sure. It couldn't have been comfortable, Papyrus was getting big and rather heavy. And Sans was so small.

    "Nah," Sans winced. He reached up and grasped both of Papyrus' ankles to keep him from kicking his sternum too hard. "I'm his brother, this is my job."

    It hit her like a shock of cold water and froze her mid-stride.

    Right.

    She had forgotten, in the middle of everything, that as much as she wanted to take care of them, even if Sans willingly stayed, they weren't _hers_. They belonged only to each other.

    But they were here anyway, and that was something, at least. 


	18. Chapter 18

    Toriel was too emotionally exhausted and lost in her own thoughts to truly engage with anything for the rest of the day, so she mostly left Sans and Papyrus to their own devices for the afternoon. Sans was responsible, after all. He'd taken such good care of his brother already. She knew that in her mind, but her heart still tugged at her to go peek in on them every few minutes.

    She had a lot to think about, though. And perhaps Sans needed some space as well.

    By the time the evening rolled around, Sans (with Papyrus sitting on his shoulders and laughing the entire way) had explored every inch of the house, discovered the existence of mirrors, studied the angles of ball bounces, and built a little fort out of books. Normally, Toriel encouraged respect for books, but in this instance she let it slide.

    It was nice that Sans seemed more comfortable now. Something that had been curled tight inside of him seemed to have loosened up.

    And even more than that, actually, it was just nice to see them behaving like _children_ for once.

    He didn't even seem to notice her sitting across from him at dinner, wolfing down his food with abandon after making sure Papyrus got his share. He was going to be trouble to put to sleep tonight, she sighed. She spent the evening in the armchair by the fireplace, buried in books she wasn't even reading. The letters swam in front of her eyes and, before she realized it, she had re-skimmed the same paragraph several times.

    "T-Toriel?"

    She pushed her glasses up her nose and looked through them at the child standing at her knee. "What is it, Sans?"

    He had Papyrus wrapped up in one arm and holding onto his shoulder. Papyrus was clearly tired,  barely keeping his eyes open and fidgeting grumpily. "Papyrus wants some apple cider."

    She suppressed a snort. " _Papyrus_ wants apple cider."

    "Yeah."

    Sans' free hand was fisted in his jacket, scrunching and un-scrunching the soft cloth anxiously.

    Toriel grinned. "Coming right up."

    It was a matter of moments to heat up a few mugs and bring them out. Sans was still standing by the arm of her chair , Papyrus half-asleep with his face nestled in the crook of Sans' neck, when she exited the kitchen.

    He took a deep breath when he saw her and seemed to straighten up. He looked for all the world like he was bolstering himself up for something. "Papyrus wants to- to sit in your lap. But, I have to hold him, though."

_Papyrus_ wanted. Of course.

    "Well, Papyrus is certainly welcome to sit with me anytime. As are you," she added as she sat down, trying not to let her amusement slip into her voice.

    How he managed to climb into her lap while not disturbing Papyrus on his shoulder, she would never be able to understand. He was all pointy elbows and knees, finger bones digging sharply into her thigh as he scrambled up. And then he settled in and stiffened, as if he was afraid already that he'd overstepped his bounds.

    She brought her arm behind and around him and, carefully, nudged him a little until he leaned against her shoulder, still tense. She didn't want him to feel trapped, but she didn't want him to feel unwelcome either. (What a pair they were, she thought. Both wanting to move forward, but scared of doing something wrong and shattering it all.)

    Then she remembered the mugs in her other hand and held them out for Sans to take one. They sat like that, breathing in the spiced-apple scent and taking slow sips.

    Toriel was the one who broke the silence, in the end, after glancing at the clock above the table. It was still a bit too early to go to bed properly, and he still seemed too fidgety. "Do you want to read a book together?"

    At her voice, he startled, his drink splashing around inside his mug. He shrugged with his one free shoulder.

    That was a bad habit, Toriel thought to herself. She'd have to start encouraging him out of it, but perhaps after some time.

    "What kind of book would you like to read?" She prompted.

    "There's..." he began quietly, then cleared his throat and tried again a little bit louder, "There's a book that I read to Papyrus before we sleep. He likes it when I do the voices."

    Papyrus was already asleep, snoring softly, clinging to his brother like a lifeline.

    Toriel recalled sending over a few books for very young children, back when she was assembling her little care packages. Her own personal library on the nearby bookshelf was full of wonderful little stories similar to that for varying age groups. She loved a healthy mixture of fiction and nonfiction.

    "Well," she said, "I will not say that 'voices' are a particular skill of mine, but I would be happy to try. I know I have a book full of little stories you might enjoy. It is the book with the big green spine. I will need to stand up to retrieve it, howe-"

    The book that she was motioning to suddenly shimmered blue. She was taken aback, at first, until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Sans' fingers were twitching around his mug. She could only see a part of his face, angled down and away from her as it was, but his eye sockets seemed narrowed in concentration.

    The book slowly moved out of its place on the shelf. There was a moment where she braced herself for a resounding thump as it slipped out of its resting place and started its heavy descent, but it rocketed upwards before it could land.

    "Aaaaaah," Sans murmured to himself, sounding a little strained. Slowly, jerkily, with the unsteadiness of a leaf on the wind, the book began to float its way over to the chair.

    She was absolutely astonished. She knew that Sans had to have some form of telekinesis, or something similar, because she couldn't exactly forget the way he had slammed her up against the wall when they had first met. But it was still very surprising to see this skill developing so early.

    About a foot away from Toriel's knee, the book rocketed again, this time right toward her face. Her reflexes may not have been well honed, but they were fast enough to save her nose from the hard impact. She stared at the book clenched tightly in her hand, still a little bit taken aback at the show of power.

    Sans muttered, "I've been practicing."

    She breathed out a stuttery laugh. Practicing indeed.

    He didn't seem to know what to make of that. "Is it... is it okay?" He hunched his shoulders defensively.

    "Sans, that was _amazing_. You have a skill that few adult monsters have. And you can do it so well. I am very proud of you."

    She could feel him relax a little under the praise, subtly, as he took a sip of apple cider.

    "Do you want to know what this book is about?" She asked. She knew he could hear the humor creeping into her tone, and that he would play along.

    "Yeah."

    "It is _about... two hundred and fifty pages_!" She finished after checking.

    She heard a small, "heh". Tough crowd. Toriel was too determined to stop, however.

    "You know, you and books have something in common. You might be close relatives."

    Sans' head popped up at that, staring at her searchingly like she was speaking nonsense. Which she was.

    "Books may not have bones, but they do have _spines_!" She tapped the green spine pointedly.

    That earned her a whole chuckle.

    "Now, let us _book_ inside this story and see what we find," she finished. "Perhaps you can help me with the voices!"

    She opened up the book. Sans helped her by holding the other side and flipping through until he found a picture he liked. Taking a breath, she began to read.

    "HERE is Edward Bear, coming downstairs now, bump, bump, bump, on the back of his head..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait for this. I was in Malmö this weekend for Melodifestivalen, ate some [nice cream,](http://quietandbored.tumblr.com/post/139310681660/nice-cream) and got behind on my writing! Hope you all had as awesome a weekend as I did. Mello was fantastic.
> 
> Also, the story Toriel is reading is Winnie-The-Pooh by A. A. Milne, which probably thoroughly confounded but also somewhat amused Sans. It's a bit nonsensical for such a literal little kid. :'D


	19. Chapter 19

_Burning and scalpels and fingers in his mouth, god he can't move-_

    Sans flinched awake again, phalanges scratching painfully against his chest, trying to reorient himself to the idea that he had a whole, functioning body. Everything was dark and he was trying to find solid ground by touch and the sound of his own breathing, and somehow he managed to pull himself into some semblance of togetherness. Where was Pap?

    He shuffled his arms around nervously, patting until he found the lump and then tugged the covers away. Papyrus was snuffling a little in sleep, curled up near Sans' knees. He never slept in the same place twice, lately, and often moved around during the night. Sans was just glad he was okay.

    "Sans?" Toriel's sleepy voice floated in from somewhere past the door. It creaked as it opened slowly. "Are you all right?"

    "Yeah," he replied. "It's not..." he yawned,  "it's okay now." He really wanted some apple cider again, but it was the middle of the night. He could tell by the ache in his sockets that he had only been asleep for a few hours. No way she'd bother. It wasn't that big a deal anyway.

    She crouched by the bedside and reached her arms out, hesitantly, offering a choice. He tried to pull himself back, tried to not be greedy, but he couldn't help it. He reached back and clung tight.

    "You are safe here," she murmured. He breathed in a shaky breath and steadied himself. He slowly relaxed at the gentle feeling of her hands between his shoulders, gently rubbing away the tension.

    He had never been touched much. At least, not that he could remember. Not like this, not just... for comfort. To make him feel better. He liked it a lot. He liked it too much.

    "Do you think you will be able to go back to sleep?" She asked softly.

    Sleep was already dragging at the edges of his vision. The confused jumbled mess of thoughts that he woke up with was slowly untangling itself. "Yeah," he decided. And this was where she'd get up, leaving him to sit in the dark in the quiet room alone-

    "I will stay here with you until you fall asleep, if you would like?"

    He suppressed the surprised laugh bubbling up in his chest. Of course she would pick up on his unspoken wish, even though he used to be so good at hiding what he was feeling. She could see right through him. "Thanks."

    She loosened her grip on him and, shivering a little at the sudden lack of warm touch, he laid back down. Yawning, he turned his face against the pillow so he could see her with his good eye. She was looking down near his knees and-

    Oh yeah. The blankets. That was why he was a little cold. He had been checking on Paps.

    She reached over towards Papyrus, but pulled back halfway through the gesture and looked at him almost shyly.

    Oh yeah. He had completely forgotten that Papyrus was his responsibility. That nightmare _really_ scrambled his brains... but he was too tired to care, right now, and maybe he'd think better of it in the morning, but this was now and he was already feeling himself sinking down into sleep.

    "Can you...?" He lifted his hands weakly, motioning a little for her to pick Papyrus up and give him over.

    The look on her face was so _warm_ as she carefully lifted the sleeping baby and deposited him in Sans' waiting arms. He could feel her eyes on him as he curled up. The fuzzy slide of the covers back up to his chin was unexpected, but nice. And then she poked the edges so they went underneath his shoulders.

    He gave her a questioning look, because that was a rather funny thing to do, but she just grinned back. Now, the top of the blanket was wrapped around him like a hug.

    "Now that you are all tucked in, I know a few good snail facts..." she whispered quietly. And he was asleep by the fifth one.

 

* * *

 

    That morning marked the return of an old friend.

 _"Hey......"_ a certain familiar ghost said softly as they phased their head through the front door. _"I'd knock, but..... you know...."_

    It was great timing, since they'd just finished up eating lunch. Papyrus squealed from his spot in Sans' lap, wiggling so hard that he smacked his big brother in the teeth several times.

    "Ow! Chill, bro!" Sans begged, shoulders quaking a bit in silent laughter.

    "NO!" was the immediate response. Sans wondered how he'd managed to raise such a cheeky kid.

 _"oh...! it's good to see you guys..."_ Napstablook said, in a tone that was as close to happy as they ever seemed to get. They floated all the way through the door and hovered in the entranceway awkwardly. _"I'm so glad you're doing okay.... I was really worried..."_

        "Sorry," Sans mumbled, humor dropping quickly. He didn't like to think that he'd made his only friend upset. It made him feel like a bad person. He pushed the chair out away from the table and set Papyrus down. The baby immediately began crawling towards Napstablook, shouting _no_ at the top of his lungs.

    "You do not have to apologize, Sans," Toriel said firmly from across the table. Sans shrugged.

 _"Oh.... oh no... that tickles,"_ Napstablook said, presumably to Papyrus who was wiggling his arms in the air, not seeming to understand his hands were phasing right through the intangible body.

    "BOOO!" Papyrus said happily.

    "Wait!" Toriel said, wiping her hands on her napkin and standing up. "I had almost forgotten. Did you find everything?"

    Napstablook glanced up at her and bobbed up and down in the ghostly version of a nod. _"Here you go...."_ they breathed, and Sans watched as blankets, books, and toys shimmered into existence, pulled from pocketspace.

    "Thank you Napstablook," Toriel said happily as she crouched over the pile. "This is definitely going to be a big help. I knew I could count on you." Sans barely noticed the way Blook blushed at the praise. He was more concerned with the state of disrepair that the miscellaneous toys and stuff were in.

    "Why does it look all beat up?" He blurted out. Then he ducked his head. Questions, especially unprompted ones, especially ones with context clues that he should have used to figure out the solution... were not good. He should have kept his mouth shut.

    (To be honest, the answer was slowly coming together, but the very thought caused a sinking feeling in his chest. Like everything was spinning out of control and moving so fast it was leaving him behind. Nobody told him this, didn't they think he should know...?)

    Toriel seemed taken aback. "Honey," she started, and he didn't know that word but he could guess what it meant, and suddenly he didn't want her to talk to him like that, it made him feel small and stupid, "I thought you knew. The place you were living in, it collapsed. In the earthquake. It was completely destroyed, so I asked Napstablook to salvage what they could."

    "Oh." Oh no. She didn't tell him. She didn't. Why didn't she tell him? _It was important._

    "I am sorry if you misunderstood," was she really blaming him for this? ... _was_ he the one at fault here? "Did you... not... want to stay?"

    He choked a little. "I did, I mean, I just..." _wanted somewhere to run away to. Just in case._ A safe space. When he inevitably messed up and got them kicked out, or her patience and kindness ran out and he ended up hurt, he needed to know there was a way out. He hadn't even _thought_ about the cave house until now, taking for granted the security of it.

    He didn't like feeling trapped. He wanted this to be _his choice_. He hunched up, pushing his cheeks into the fluffy jacket hood, trying to hide, trying to fight the prickling sensation in his eyes. It didn't work. He was crying. He was having trouble breathing. He did not want to be here, doing this, right now.

 _"o-oh dear....."_ Napstablook murmured, voice trembling, _"I didn't mean, I-I'm sorry, I.... I didn't know, I should have, oh no............................................................."_

    "Napstablook, it is not your fault, it is..." Napstablook had already vanished, phasing right through the walls and away, leaving behind a rather indignant baby behind. "...mine," she finished lamely. Her shoulders slouched just the tiniest bit.

    Sans stared at his feet, trying not to be mad.

    He didn't know the rules here. He didn't know if he was allowed to be mad. He didn't know anything he was allowed to do, and he'd been too tired and too complacent to care at first. But now, now he was mad. 

    So he stayed very still.

    "Sans..." Toriel breathed. She hadn't moved, still next to the pile. "I thought you knew." But he didn't. And it didn't make him feel any better.

    He didn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You didn't think we were done with this emotional yo-yo, did you? :')  
> They've only been at Toriel's house for a couple days now, since the earthquake. Feels like a lot longer to me... anyways, it's just about time to be dealing with boundaries and rules. Some things need to get straightened out.  
>   
> Thank you all, again, so much for your support with this. I am really bad at actually continuing things I start. It's all thanks to you (yes, you, reading this right now) that I'm still writing. Hold up a hand, ok? Now take your other and smack your palms together. Imagine I just high-fived you. Yeah.


	20. Chapter 20

    They stayed in silence for several moments. Toriel bolstered her courage. "Would you like a hug?" She asked. She hoped.

    It took him a moment to respond. He shook his head.

    "...how about some apple cider?" She asked. She didn't truly want to make more, the flavor became a bit stale after drinking it too frequently, but anything was preferable to the silence that stretched long and tense. Anything to stop him from crying. She had forgotten how painful it was to see her children crying.

    He shook his head again.

    What could she do? What did he want?

    (He had never actually promised to stay, she remembered suddenly, heart hurting. Perhaps he considered his stay here to be temporary. Perhaps he had been counting the minutes until he planned to leave).

    (Everyone left eventually).

    "I do not know what you want. What can I do to make you feel better?" She asked, a little bit desperate.

    He shrugged, bunching up the material of his shirt in his fists. He was determinedly looking at the ground, the walls, anywhere but at her. And it hurt.

    "Sans-" She leaned forward, to move to him, to do something, and he flinched. Oh dear. Touching didn't seem to be something he would welcome at this point in time.

    "Sans, _please_ tell me what I can do to help. Sans, _look at me,_ please."

    Meeting her gaze seemed to be a struggle for him, but in a moment their eyes met. That was progress. That gave her a little hope. Perhaps what he needed was direct instruction?

    "Sans, tell me why you are upset. Please."

    He drew a ragged breath. His voice was tremulous and tiny and every word seemed to be dragged out of him by force. "Because the cave house is gone."

    Toriel leaned back on her heels a little. She put her hands in her lap. Her heart sank. "Why is that upsetting to you?"

    He shrugged and slouched further. "Because it's- was safe."

    She tried to fight the growing frustration welling up in her chest. _Safe?_ She had tried her best to make Sans feel safe in her home. She didn't, really didn't want to ask, because the answer was going to hurt, but. "Do you not feel safe here?"

    He seemed to crumble at that, actually fidgeting. His breathing was still erratic and tears were still trickling out of the corners of his eyes. "Dunno."

    It was better than a resounding negative, but it still hit her like an oncoming train, leaving her a little breathless herself. "Oh." She soldiered on, "what can I do to help you to feel safe?"

    "Dunno."

    What could she do to help him feel safe, that she hadn't done already? What direct questions could she ask? "Why did the... the cave house make you feel safe?"

    "Was a... place. To go. If things got bad. Just, safe." By this point, Papyrus had picked up on the mood and had made his way over to Sans, patting his knees and making comforting-sounding noises. Toriel watched as Sans' whole posture changed, relaxed just slightly. It was amazing the effect Papyrus had on Sans.

    A... safe place to go if things... 'got bad'. They _wouldn't_ 'go bad'. Why couldn't Sans see that? She had done her best. What could be so wrong with her that all her children left her, one by one? (Anger wouldn't help, so she pushed it down and away and tried to forget it). "I am sorry that you can not feel safe here. If you really, truly wish- i-if there is no way that I can make you happy, I can help you find a new safe place, or call Napstablook back? But I will admit, I truly hoped that you would stay here, with me." The last part was selfish, but...

    Then she remembered the apple cider the previous night. The book. Sitting on her lap. "What does _Papyrus_ want?" She asked.

    Sans startled a little, blinking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. He seemed to seriously consider it, taking little raspy hiccupping breaths, clenching and unclenching his hands. He crouched down and leaned the side of his face towards Papyrus, as if listening. Papyrus took that opportunity to burp right in Sans' ear.

    Sans acted like he didn't notice. He seemed to be focusing on something.

    "He says he wants to stay," he started, and Toriel's heart soared, "...but he doesn't want to stay if something goes bad."

    She could work with that. She would work with any little bit of hope he could dangle in front of her. She barely had to think before it spilled out of her lips, "I propose a 'trial period,' then. You can stay here for as long as you like, and if something does... go wrong... and you wish to leave, then you are free to do so and I will help you, and I'm sure Napstablook will as well. We can find you a place that is safe. But we can try to live like this, first. Together?"

    She watched as Sans glanced at Papyrus and leaned down again. It took several moments of tense, worried silence for him to come to a decision. "Papyrus says maybe we can try that."

    She fought back a small relieved smile then. "I am very glad, my child."

    The silence was a bit more comfortable this time. She didn't move yet. She couldn't quite relax yet. It didn't feel like a conclusion, like a tangible solution had been reached. It took her a moment to think of why that might be, and then she took a deep breath that caused Sans to look at her again. "I did not mean to upset you like that. I have lived alone for so long that I am not used to having others around anymore. I do not want it to happen again, so why do we not talk about what to expect from each other?"

    His eyes were wide. "What?" He asked, then flinched like he was regretting the question immediately.

    She kept her own expression as open and honest as possible. "I need to know what to do to help you feel safe and happy. And you need to know what I expect of you while you live here."

    He seemed nervous, now, and was back to fidgeting.

    "I will go retrieve a paper and pen. I think the table would be the best place to have this discussion, do you not?"

    He gave a jerky nod. She wondered if he was already regretting his decision to stay. But this talk was long overdue, she thought, if he still felt unbalanced enough here to turn to mistrust at a moment's notice and to keep his emotional displays so tightly in check. He had been so upset but _so quiet_ , it was almost frightening. She tried not to watch the shake in his legs as he picked up Papyrus and scrambled to the table.

    She took a moment to herself, in the hallway, out of sight of the children, to lean against a wall and breathe, eyes closed and aching. For at least a few minutes, she had felt like she was going to lose everything all over again.

    After a few more moments, she brought the supplies over to the table beside the children and slid into the chair. She tapped a pen on the blank paper in thought.

    "How about... Rule Number One... we must be honest with each other?" She suggested. "That means that I will always tell you the answer when you ask a question, and if something happens that is important to you, I will tell you as soon as I can."

    He stared at her in wonderment. She could almost imagine his train of thought. _She was supposed to follow the rules as well...?_ It was probably blowing his mind.

    "But it also means that you must respond when I ask a question. If you don't want to tell me something, then tell me that you don't want to talk about it. Does that make sense?"

    He took a second to consider, as if searching for any loopholes, still staring, then nodded. She wrote down _be honest_.

    "For Rule Number Two, I believe that we should, above all, be kind and respect each other. The world is always a better place when we treat others the way we want to be treated."

    Sans hesitated. His eyes flitted around in his sockets nervously.

    "What is it, Sans?" Toriel asked. She shifted her arm just slightly so her fingers were pointing at Rule One, to try and subtly remind him of their agreement. He was very astute and probably realized it was deliberate, but he didn't call her out on it.

    "I don't want to be nice if someone hurts us," he confessed in a raspy whisper, pulling Papyrus closer on his lap.

    She hummed. "I can see your point. How would you like to word it instead?"

    At this, he looked absolutely dumbfounded, as though the very idea she was asking for his input was incomprehensible. He had clearly not ever expected to be able to negotiate the rules.

    She waited while the cogs and gears spun.

    "Maybe..." he drew it out as he thought, "Be kind as long as the other person is being kind too?"

    "That certainly seems reasonable to me! All right, I will write it down." And she did.

    She sat back, looking at the small list. "Be honest and be kind (as long as the other person is being kind)," she read. "Do you think you can do that?"

    "Yeah," he murmured.

    "These rules are for me as well. And I will be sure to follow them. If we work together, I am certain that we will be able to live together just fine, even if we go through some bumps along the way." Toriel turned the paper over and set the pencil down. She shifted in her seat so she was facing the boys a little bit more. "Now we have something else to talk about. Expectations."

 

* * *

 

    Toriel then proceeded to tell Sans exactly what she expected of him. He braced for the worst when she began. He thought about just running out of there right then.

    But she said things like _come talk to me if you are upset_ , and _we should all eat meals together_ , and _if you want to go somewhere, please tell me first,_ and _try not to stay up too late unless you are not sleeping well_.

    And it was a relief.

    Finally, he had an idea of what she wanted. Finally, he had some idea of what he could and couldn't do. Something that had been wound tight inside of him that he hadn't even known was _there_ until that moment... slightly unwound.

    It was okay to not be the one in charge. He was used to that. But it was scary to not be the one in charge _and to not know the rules_.

    These 'expectations' were weird. And he knew he'd probably break them on accident sometimes. But the way she worded it, like they were just guidelines, like he could stray and she wouldn't be too mad. Well. That was kind of a relief too. Kind of weird, but he'd started to understand that Toriel was just weird overall.

    "...do you have any questions? Or your own suggestions? Or is there anything you do not like?" she asked as she finished. He'd taken careful note, memorized them all as best he could. He shook his head. "That is good! I am sure I will think of some more things as time goes on, but I just wanted you to feel comfortable. I know your life before this was... _very_ different, and perhaps knowing what to expect will... make you feel... more, comfortable here?" Her voice grew a little bit wavery and tentative at the end. He didn't like it. Watching her weaknesses made him feel even more insecure, for reasons he didn't quite understand.

    "Uh huh," he agreed, even though he wasn't entirely certain what he was agreeing to, still committing all of the expectations to memory.

    She looked at him for another moment, drew a breath, and then nodded. "Good. Now, what do you think about bug hunting?"

    He didn't think much of anything about bug hunting, so he gave her a rather empty look.

    "Excellent!" She cheered, mood lifting. "I will introduce you to the intense, action-filled world of bug hunting! Under my expert instruction, you will become a professional in no time at all. But first, I have something for you."

    She moved to get up and go do something, but then paused. "It is a good something. Just wait here."

    He was a good people reader, exceptionally good. He had taken the little stimulation he'd gotten in the lab and turned it inward, analyzing every word he heard and every glimpse of scie- _people_ or interesting things he'd seen, trying to make sense of it. It was how he taught himself a whole language. Sometimes it meant the difference between getting hurt or not, if he could read the fluctuating moods of their keeper. Things were different now. He wasn't used to _feeling_ all these things, terrified as he was after a lifelong routine of dullness was broken irrevocably, and sometimes these feelings clouded his perceptions. Sometimes he didn't even realize it.

    He didn't know he needed the reassurance, _it's a good something_. Didn't know until she tossed it his way and then hurried off. He should know, just by looking at her, hearing the tone in her voice. But he'd lost something of himself since he left the Bad Place, apparently.

    He still didn't know Toriel. Not really. They'd only been here for, what, two days? Since the... the thing. (He shivered and changed mental tracks, feeling the echoing sympathetic response trailing from his chest and making him wheeze a little). And they really hadn't gotten to know her all that much beforehand. He was trusting her because she never gave him a reason not to, because she was consistently kind in a way he was utterly unfamiliar with but craved more than he really understood.

    (Because she sat with him at night and held him through his screams, and her fur was so warm.)

    And he should have known, of course, that these rules were not going to be Bad. That she wouldn't do that to them.

    He didn't trust her, and it made him feel bad... he had worried her, and it made him feel guilty...

    She didn't seem to be mad, though, he couldn't imagine her ever _really_ getting mad or doing anything bad. The cave house was just a dumb idea. He didn't need it, she wouldn't do anything, she would never, would she? (would she??)

    She interrupted his thoughts by walking in, holding something behind her back. "Are you all right?" She inquired.

    "Yeah," he murmured, then coughed and tried again louder, "yeah." His throat still felt a little clenched and raw after so much effort holding back sobs earlier. Some magical muscles he'd almost forgotten existed were sore, now, because it had been so long since he'd struggled with the need to be silent.

    "Good to hear," she said. Then, with a flourish and a "Ta-da!", she held out the _something_. A small jacket, baby-sized. Orange.

    "I had been talking to some very kind monsters in Home. It has been a long while since there have been children, so they were happy to let me have a few of their old things. Now the two of you can match!"

    It was a little big for Pap. Sans had to push the sleeves up a little bit so that Papyrus' fingers wouldn't get caught. But it was still perfect. They matched. They were brothers.

    "What do you think?" He asked, and Papyrus giggled and clapped his hands. "Me too."

    He glanced out of the corner of his good eye to see Toriel grinning so wide it seemed almost painful. Her gaze was a little unfocused, like she wasn't quite seeing _them._

    "Yes," she said, "me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again, everyone, for all of your support. You guys rock.  
> We're not that from the end, if everything goes as I think it will, so hang in there for just a little bit longer. :D


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See notes at bottom for potentially-iffy content.

    He didn't have any nightmares that night, or even dreams. For the first time in a while, the drift into wakefulness was a gentle slide, and there were no accompanying pinching feelings in his sockets or soreness in his joints.

    Papyrus was still asleep, tiny fists curled up against a tiny chest, upside-down and halfway under the pillow. How he got there, Sans would never know, but Sans was a heavy enough sleeper that Papyrus could have (and probably did) crawl all over him at some point in the night.

    He rolled out of bed and shrugged on the jacket and a new pair of pants. They were an experiment on Toriel's part, she had explained, because while she could - and did - make her own clothes, she was inexperienced at making literally anything else. They sat a little funny on him, but not bad. They were more comfortable than his ragged pair he'd had since the Bad Place, or the worn pair that he'd been wearing since they appeared in one of Toriel's care packages.

    He felt clean and awake. And it was a step.

    He eased the door open, trying not to wake Papyrus. The minute the door creaked, though, the baby whined and rubbed his eyes. There went that idea.

    The two of them wandered towards the living room, the sounds of someone moving around in the kitchen drawing them closer to investigate. Sans poke his head through the doorway. He lifted Papyrus so he could do the same.

    Bowls and bags and containers littered the counter. Toriel herself was bent down, rummaging around in the cupboards, talking to herself. When she extricated herself and straightened up, Sans had to blink in astonishment. She wasn't wearing her usual purple dress. It was all he'd ever seen her wear, so she almost didn't look like _herself_ in the worn sweater, frayed at the edges, sleeves rolled up past the elbow. She had something on over it - a big cloth tied around her waist and neck that said "DON'T GO BAKIN' MY HEART!" with a picture of a heart-shaped pie below.

    He had no idea what to think. It was weird. What was all that stuff for?

    She looked up and saw them peeking in. _"OH!"_ She yelped, stepping backwards, brandishing whatever was in her hand out in front of her as if it was a weapon. Sans stepped back and pulled Papyrus closer to him, tense, ready to run. Then Toriel's expression cleared, she put a hand to her heart, and drew a deep breath. "Oh, children, you startled me."  She laughed, more air than sound, "I am so sorry. I am afraid I may occasionally, er, forget that I am no longer alone here. Oh _dear_."

    He watched her carefully, the way her grip loosened on the thing, the way she hunched her shoulders in shock and regret as she tried to regain her breath.

    Change the subject. "What is this?" He said, pointing to the counter and everything on it. Stuff for making food?

    "Ah, I was just starting to make cookies. Would the two of you like to help?"

    He had no idea what cookies were. "Uh, sure?"

    "Excellent! First of all, you must wash your hands and then we must make sure you can reach the counter. Let me retrieve a chair from the dining table," she began, moving towards them to move past them, and he backed up several steps more than necessary, just to keep an eye on her. She didn't seem to notice.

    Once the chair was set in place, and Sans was standing on it, with Papyrus strapped to the baby chair on the counter nearby to watch over the proceedings, Toriel began instruction. She held up a small hardcover book ragged with water damage and age. "Here is the recipe I am using. Would you read the first step for me?"

    Uh... okay, first... step? "Three-fourths cup gran- granyul... sugar."

    She shook her head kindly, tapping further down the page. "That is the list of ingredients. I have pulled them out already, now I need to know what to do."

    Oh. He felt really stupid now. "Heat oven to three hundred seventy five, little circle, f."

    She snapped her fingers and a little flame arose from the tips. "That part is not necessary. I am my own oven! What is next?"

    He glanced back down at the page. "Mix _s_ ugars, butter, van-illa, egg, and-"

    "--that is good, but slow down, please!" She interrupted. He hunched in on himself. "I need them one at a time, so that I can put them in this bowl. What was the first one?"

    "Sugars." He pronounced it like _soo-grz_.

    "Sugars," she repeated, pronouncing it differently. The beginning part was a shh sound. How did that come from the 's' alone? "How much sugar? Could you look in the ingredients list again?"

    "Three-fourths cup."

    She pulled out a plastic container and screwed off the top. Then she pulled out a silver spoon from a set with varying sizes. "This is one-fourth of a cup. How many would I need to get three-fourths of a cup?"

    That was really obvious. Ridiculously so. She clearly knew the answer, was this a test? Why was she testing him? "Three."

    She seemed strangely happy for such a simple answer. "Precisely! Now, could you help me measure these out?"

    Together they spilled the right amounts in. Granulated sugar, brown sugar, vanilla. One at a time, they were all dumped in the bowl. Sans was great at following directions, of course, and Toriel was very encouraging and patient. He couldn't mix everything together, though, it was too heavy and thick, so she took that particular task.

    In the end, they had something Toriel called _dough_ , and she even wrote it out for him so he knew how to spell it. It was a little bit sticky and a lot gooey. She showed him how to roll the dough into little pieces and set on a baking tray.

    Then she sat in the chair, pushed out from the counter, arms lowered so he could look down over the dough balls. "Now, Sans," she said, "this tray will become very hot. You cannot get too close or touch it, all right?"

    He nodded and concentrated on obeying. "Okay."

    She held the tray on her palms and, slowly, he felt the temperature in the air rise. She noticed the way he shifted, the catch in his breath as the air became heavy, and instantly the effect lessened. "Tell me if it becomes too hot," she ordered, "and I will make sure to pull the heat back to this spot. I can concentrate my flame, but it sometimes tries to creep out anyway."

    "Okay," he said again.

    She looked over at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, and told him about glutenin and gliadin, acids and carbon dioxide gas, and as she talked he watched the way the dough balls slowly seemed to melt, flattening out and then billowing up.

    A warm, sweet scent drifted up from the baking cookies. He thought about all the little reactions going on in there, so tiny that he couldn't see it. It was... it was pretty cool. A little universe.

    After they solidified and then browned just a bit, Toriel put the cookie sheet on the top of the stove to cool. "Would you like to try one?" She asked. "You were such a hard worker that you deserve to test them out."

    He nodded nervously. What if he messed up? Maybe they were bad. But she'd been there the whole time, and it seemed like she had approved everything...

    The cookie was warm as she placed it in his hand. He took an experimental bite and relaxed in bliss and relief. They were good!

    Toriel giggled at his expression, the way he sagged his shoulders, the little tilt of his head as he let the sugary sweetness dissolve in his mouth. He wanted more. He wanted fifty!

    "Well," she said, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was being silly, "by the look on your face, I would have to say that perhaps these cookies are _too_ delicious. I had better protect you from them by eating them all myself!"

    "No!" He shrieked, spitting crumbs, eyes wide, jumping a little in panic.

    "Sans, I am merely joking. We will share all of these," she reassured him quickly. Oh, good. "First, though, we must clean up and have some lunch! What w-"

    A sound akin to a thuddy _poof_ resounded through the kitchen. A white powder billowed up from behind them, filling the air with a sticky heavy mess. Sans startled, crouching low and shielding himself from- from something, he wasn't sure what. He heard Toriel cough somewhere above him.

    As the... stuff... slowly started to clear, he heard Papyrus giggle. Papyrus! He scrambled to his feet, slipping on the powder and landing almost flat on his face. Wind knocked out of him, chest aching, he didn't have the energy to flinch away as Toriel leaned down, brow furrowed in concern.

    "Are you okay, dear?"

    "Yeah," he choked, and tried to push himself up, but his shaking and suddenly-weak arms slipped on the white stuff (flour...?) and he couldn't do it, and in his scrambles one of his hands hit the bone right underneath his bad eye and his whole body jerked back in horror and shock.

    And then there were hands, hands on his back, one near his face, and they were so big and he couldn't fight it, he couldn't, didn't want to be here, what was happening and he was back in the Bad Place and there were scalpels and his eye hurt, his bad eye, why was it always his bad eye, oh please no

    And it took him far too long to realize that the hand was gone, that the pressure on his chest was the ground, that he was choking on flour and keening, that Papyrus had somehow gotten on the floor next to him and was patting and rubbing his skull and cooing, soothingly.

    He coughed.

    "Sans?" he heard Toriel's voice from, from somewhere, he tried to find her and his neck ached, head swaying and jerking as he tried to force himself to look up, "are you back with us? It is the present, we just finished baking cookies. Papyrus decided to be a little scamp and overturn the flour onto the floor. You are in my house. You are right here, and I am here, and..." she rambled, and with each reminder of where he was and what was going on he slowly fought himself back, until he was there, reaching for Papyrus with trembling fingers.

    "Hey," he breathed shakily.

    "How are you feeling, my child?" Toriel asked. He tried to lift his head to look at her, and finally his body was starting to work for him again because he managed it this time. She was crouched nearby, several feet away, fingers clenched in her sleeves, eyes wide.

    Quelling the instinctive urge to go through the usual steps of self-analysis, to give her the detailed observations _my magic is centralized in my chest right now and is throbbing, motor skills impaired, vision still black at the edges,_ Sans instead took a moment to think about it. He slowly rolled to a sitting up position, wiggled his arms, wrapped them around Papyrus as the baby crawled determinedly into his lap.

    "Scared," he admitted. He coughed up a little white cloud.

    She huffed with a little smile. "You and me both," she admitted right back. Relaxing a bit, she dropped into a sitting position, legs crossed in front of her, making furrows in the layer of flour on the floor.

    "You're getting, uh, all over you-" he protested, but she shook her head.

    "That is not important. What is important is you. What just happened?"

    He wasn't quite sure himself, so he shrugged a little. His cheekbones burned with embarrassment. "Remembered something."

    "Remembered what?"

    He couldn't help it, he reached for the spot under his bad eye and flinched away as soon as he did so. "Bad stuff."

    She was looking at him a little bit piercingly, so he glanced away.

    "Well," Toriel began, "I owe you an apology. I tried to touch you, to help you stand, and I did not realize that you would not react well. I believe that I made it worse."

    Oh. "Sorry."

    "Sans, you do not need to apologize. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I made a mistake, and it caused you distress, and _I_ am sorry. If you ever need to- if you ever want to talk about what happened, my arms are always open. And I will remember to give you space, if this ever happens again."

    His cheeks were burning, the space behind his eyes was prickling, and he sniffled a bit. The only thing he could really do was nod.

    "All right," she said, "Now, I think it would be best if I did the cleaning up. Why do you not dust off your clothes here and then go change? And then we can eat." She held out her hand, slowly, like she was afraid he'd bite it or something. He reached back and she pulled him to his feet, Papyrus balanced on his shoulder and chewing away at his jacket.

    "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content that could be iffy: Kind-of flashback panic episode thing happens... rough for everybody. :/
> 
> I'm back from Halmstad where I had some serious fun at Andra Chansen. Next up: Finalen in Friends Arena! (I'm popping all around Sweden these days). Since this is an intensely awesome time in Sweden right now, I'm not sure I'll be able to keep up my regular posting pace. My backlog of chapters has all run out. I'll try to get back up to normal within a week of the Mello final... fingers crossed.


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